Nothing Compares
by Queen of Kaos
Summary: Their relationship was an unconventional fairy tale, until he walked away abruptly and without warning. Can she convince him that they really do belong together, or are they destined for a happily never after? TakerOC
1. Broken

**Nothing Compares**

**A/N: Anyone who knows me, knows that The Undertaker has always been one of my favorite WWE characters. So how is it that I've never written a story about him? I forgot, just for a little while, that I don't just respect his in-ring accomplishments. I would also like to knock him down on the floor and ride him like my own personal pony. TMI? Maybe.**

**Anyway, I have to say a super-special thanks to bkerbunny for her support with this story, and for the hundreds of inspiring pictures that have helped me immensely. Thanks for looking this over and encouraging me to move forward with it, Chickie! You're the best! **

**And as always: Enjoy!**

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The ceramic floor was cool against her bare thighs, and the wood laminate of the kitchen cupboards was smooth against her tank-top covered back. The Jack Daniels bottle in her hand was solid, but growing less heavy by the minute. Her thick, black curls had been pulled back from her face, but somewhere over the last two days, it had begun to fall, releasing a mane of unmanageable frizz like a frame around her face. Her make-up long since washed away by an endless stream of tears, red splotches took their place around her ice blue eyes and round cheeks. 

Winter Kipley was well-aware of the pitiful picture that she made, splayed across her kitchen floor, head lolling from side-to-side with each whiskey gulp that coursed down her throat. She was well-aware that there were responsibilities that she was neglecting, things she was supposed to be doing, but she just didn't care. She couldn't.

Taking another drink of the amber fire, she drained the bottle and dropped it to the cold, hard floor. It clanked and cracked, but didn't crumble. "Fuckin' fucker," she mumbled, sliding further down the cabinet to rest her head against the tiles beneath her. Reaching out, she wrapped her long fingers around the neck of the bottle and raised it into her eyeline.

"Eighteen fuckin' months," she mumbled, turning it upside down until the last drops fell against her white tank top. "Gone." She raised it to her mouth and licked the lip of the bottle, savoring the last of the biting sweetness. "Fuckin' over," she repeated incoherently to herself as she bit down on the neck of the bottle, an unexpected anger bubbling up in her chest.

She thought about her friends, the ones she had neglected for the last eight months. She thought about her parents, who had been supportive, but cautious, about their only daughter's somewhat unconventional relationship. She had laughed and shrugged all of them off, telling them that they didn't understand. Mark Calaway was different. Their relationship was unshakeable.

"They're all the same," she chuckled, as though remembering an inside joke. Hoisting herself into a wobbling seated position, she heaved the bottle at the nearby wall, laughing as the shards rained to the floor with the remnants of the others. "It's a motherfucking joke!" she called out before falling back onto her side and letting another round of sobs take over.

What had gone wrong? When had her perfect relationship been blown all to hell? And why hadn't she seen it coming? How could he just walk away like that? Without so much as a look back? What had she done to drive him away? Or had he just been playing her all along? What was all that bull shit about respect and honor? Where was his honor when he told her they were over, without so much as asking how she felt about it?

Maybe she should have seen it coming. In the beginning, he had been apprehensive to share anything more than friendship with the quirky, semi-goth chick nearly fifteen years his junior. Winter had done her best to let him know she was feeling more than platonic, but he wasn't a man easily swayed. If anything was going to happen between them, he was going to make the first move.

Once he finally decided to take her out, they were off and running, without so much as a glance in the rear view mirror. Though he carried a rigorous travel schedule as a professional wrestler, there had never been a question of exclusivity. Mark wasn't interested in the ring rats that fought for his attention on the road, and as far as Winter was concerned, there was no other man on the planet worth casting a second glance.

They had been fully in love and fully committed. And when he told her that it was over, her heart had been fully broken. Winter couldn't remember every hurting as badly as she did in that moment, and she was fairly certain she would never recover. _Maybe if I could just cut the motherfucking thing out, _she thought about the literal ache in her chest. _Maybe it would hurt less. Or I would just die. Would it stop hurting then?_

For a brief moment, she thought that a suicide attempt might bring Mark back to her. But she couldn't be sure he cared enough to notice if she tried to take her own life. Rolling to her side, she tried to make her way to her feet, but unsteady legs gave way to another bruising fall to the floor. With a grunt, she managed to crawl toward the living room, noticing the shards of glass in her palm only after she had collapsed on the couch.

Exhaustion settled in as Winter gave way to the sleep that was dragging her eyelids shut like an anvil. She just needed a little nap. When she woke up, she would be encased in his massive arms, his heavy thigh draped over hers, pinning her to the sofa cushions. Her nose would be filled with his intoxicating scent, the one that forced her to bury her face further into his solid chest and inhale deeply, as though desparate to be just an inch closer. She would open her eyes to find his sparkling green orbs fully focused on her, a smile twitching on his lips as he told her that she was the most beautiful sleeper he'd ever seen.

When she woke up, it would all be better. It had to be.


	2. Behind Blue Eyes

**Nothing Compares**

**A/N: Thanks for all the reviews, guys. They mean the world to me. This story is lighting a fire under my ass, and I've got chapters just pouring out of me. I hope you continue to enjoy it!

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_"Danny? Can you get my friend here another Bourbon and Seven?"_

_The bartender, an emaciated man in his mid-forties, nodded. While it was evident he didn't smile much, he did offer his favorite customer a faint lip curl. "Sure thing, Mark," he said, sliding the glass to the man at the end of the bar._

_With a sip of the drink, Dave Batista's nose scrunched. "You're a fucking liar, man," he choked over the bitter drink. "That shit does not get better if you drink more than one."_

_Mark just laughed and smacked the slightly younger man on the back. "Come on, Dave. It's good for ya. Put hair on your chest. Make ya a man," he said, leaning his elbows back on the bar and sipping from his own straight whiskey._

_Shaking his head, Dave just looked at his friend and then back at the bar. This was Mark's territory, not his. A seedy biker bar on the outskirts of Houston, Dave had no trouble understanding why this man that the world knew as The Undertaker, was comfortable within the confines of its quiet walls. Nobody bothered him here, or paid much attention at all to his hulking, tattoed appearance. It was the only place in the world that the man really blended._

_"So you haven't answered my question yet," Dave pointed out finally, after a long moment of comfortable silence._

_After another drink, Mark tilted his head, as though considering. "What do you want me to say?" he asked. "You were actin' like an ass, and he handed you yours," he deduced._

_The fight between Dave and his teammate, Booker T, had been well-publicized already. And though Mark hadn't been there, bad news travelled fast. If anyone could give him an unbiased, but honest, opinion of the situation, it was Mark. And that was all he really wanted._

_Actually, he wanted someone on his side. But that clearly wasn't going to happen. "Look, half the rumors are just bull shit. I don't know where they started, but their not even close to the truth," Dave started._

_Mark turned his head slightly and met his friend's eye. "And the other half?" When Dave shrugged and lowered his gaze back to the bar, Mark cleared his throat. "Look, you're dealin' with a lot of guys who wanna be wearin' that gold around their waists," he advised. "The only way you're gonna get their respect is to earn it."_

_"I've busted my ass," Dave started._

_Mark raised his fingers. "For three years," he nodded toward his hand. "Talk to me when you've been around for fifteen," he chuckled, shaking his head and draining his whiskey tumbler before pounding his large hand on the bar to catch Danny's attention._

_Without words, the bartender made his way to them and topped off the glass. When he was gone, Dave opened his mouth to speak, but was interrupted by the ding of the bell over the door, followed by raucous, high-pitched giggles._

_"One drink, I promise," were the slurred words that filled the air. "I love this place!"_

_Dave and Mark turned their eyes to the door, chuckling simultaneously when they saw the five young woman approaching the bar. They wore tiaras and outdated wedding dresses. The drunken one in the middle, the only one without a gown, had a dildo on a string around her neck. "Bachelorette party," Mark laughed softly as the women took their seats at the bar._

_"Bet this place doesn't see a lot of those, huh?" Dave asked. Mark shook his head, his eyes drawn to the young woman beside him._

_Her long curls were dyed to a charcoal black, and pinned haphazardly at the sides of her head with white satin bows. The sparkling eyes that travelled the room were not deep sapphire, but an icy, baby blue that seemed to scream from behind thick, black liner. She wore a lace gown, circa 1975, that had been shortened by careless tears in the middle of her thighs, with fishnet tights and a pair of heavy combat boots._

_It was the strangest combination he had ever seen, but there was something intriguing about her appearance. It wasn't the borderline gothic style, but the confidence with which she wore it, that drew the big man's attention. And the laughter that bubbled out of her throat when she ordered her Three Wisemen shot brought a smile to his lips without warning._

_"You wanna bolt?" Dave whispered at his side, but Mark just shook his head and tipped his glass once more._

_The woman accepted her drink from the bartender and turned her face directly toward him. "Can you hand me those peanuts, please?" she asked, meeting his gaze head-on._

_Though she hadn't thought twice about asking the man at her side for the snacks that were just out of her reach, Winter felt her breath escape when met his emerald orbs. When his hand touched hers on the glass bowl, she let out a loud hiss._

_"Fuckin' A," she sighed, her eyes wide in disbelief._

_When she said nothing else, Mark allowed an appreciative smile to spread across his lips. "Did you want an autograph?" he asked softly._

_Shaking her head, as if to clear the wayward thoughts, she cleared her throat. "Why? Is it worth money?" Without missing a beat, she leaned forward on her elbow and studied his weathered face. "Cause I got rent to pay, ya know?"_

_Mark felt his cheeks warming as he leaned back on his bar stool and reconsidered the expression on her heart-shaped face. He had been sure that it had been awe, that she was one of the kids who had grown up watching him, that her gothic facade was due, at least in part, to his Dead Man ring presence. But the blank look on her face said he was completely wrong._

_And the laugh coming from the man behind him didn't help the blush that was slowly working it's way up his neck. "Uh," he started, clearing his throat and taking another drink. "I'm sorry," he started to backpedal._

_Until a wide smile broke across her lips. "I'm just fuckin' with ya," she assured, resting a warm hand against his bare arm. "I know who you are." Laughing at the stunned expression on his otherwise stoic face, she rubbed her hand over his skin and added, "You don't grow up in Houston and not know who the Undertaker is, man," she winked, finally removing her hand._

_Dave was still laughing behind him as Mark shook his head and tried to regain his composure. "Well, let me tell ya somethin'," he said with a soft smile, "there are not many people who get one over on me like that."_

_Raising her eyebrow, Winter turned back to the bar and slammed her shot back before turning to wink at him. "I'll take that as a compliment," she said._

_He nodded and returned his eyes to the bar, unsure of what was happening to him. He wasn't easily affected. By anyone. Especially not by little girls in old, torn wedding dresses who were clearly well past inebriated. But she wasn't the usual ring rat. She wasn't draping herself all over him, promising him long nights of endless passion that she would never be able to deliver. In fact, she wasn't trying to impress him at all._

_And he suspected that was exactly why he was so taken by her. "You ready to get outta here, Big Dave?" he asked, pushing away from the bar and dropping a bill beside his glass. Dave stood and Mark looked over at the young woman beside him. Waving Danny over, he motioned to the women. "Put 'em on my tab," he instructed._

_"You don't have to do that," Winter assured him, reaching a hand out to touch his arm once again. "This is supposed to be my stop," she added._

_Mark allowed his hand to linger on the back of her chair as he smiled down on her petite frame. "Consider it my apology for bein' so presumptuous before," he said, his low voice rumbling from somewhere deep in his chest._

_Standing from her seat, Winter wiped her peanut-salted fingers on the hem of her dress. Extending the hand to him, she felt her tummy flutter when his huge fingers wrapped around hers. Smiling shyly, she said, "I'm Winter, by the way."_

_"Winter?" he asked with a chuckle. "You look like a Winter," he added._

_Winter held his gaze, lost for a moment in just how green his eyes were. It had been a long time since a man looked at her like he was - like he wanted to know everything about her. "My daddy named me after his favorite stripper," she said without thinking. She couldn't have formed a coherent thought in that moment if she had tried._

_Mark couldn't stop the smile that was stretching across his face. She had gone from brash young woman to vulnerable little girl in the course of a handshake, and it was tweaking his insides to no end. "You have a designated driver?" he asked suddenly. She smiled good-naturedly and pointed to the end of the bar. A young woman in a white satin wedding dress, complete with puff sleeves and a lacey, turtleneck insert, sipped ginger ale at while her friends pounded back shots. "Well, you ladies have a good night," he finally said._

_When he turned to leave, Winter reached out and touched his hand again. "You have a phone?" she asked. When he nodded, she held her palm out. Looking somewhat nervous, Mark pulled the small flip phone from the pocket of his motorcycle jacket and pressed it into her tiny hand. She punched a few numbers and handed it back. "Call me some time."_

_With a wink, she dismissed him and turned back to her friends, seemingly forgetting that he had ever been there in the first place. Another grin tweaked his lips as Mark followed Dave out of the bar, waving good-bye to a few of the regulars on his way out. There was no telling when he would get a chance to return._

_In the parking lot, Dave laughed loudly as Mark slid into the passenger's seat of his car. "What are you laughin' at?" he asked._

_The younger man just shook his head and started the car. "You gonna call her?"_

_With a shrug, he turned his eyes to the passing scenery and thought about those steely blue eyes. "She's just a kid," he dismissed the idea, as though their age difference would matter to Dave - most of his girlfriends were younger than he was._

_"You're gonna call her," Dave predicted._

_While he didn't agree, or disagree, Mark couldn't deny that the idea wasn't repulsive in the least._


	3. Call Me When You're Sober

**Nothing Compares**

**A/N: You guys are overwhelming me with your response to this story. Seriously - it's always a little scary when you step outside of your comfort zone, when you write something, or someone, that you're not as familiar with, but you're words of encouragement continue to fuel my fire. Sometimes, a new muse seemingly comes out of nowhere and just turns your creative world on it's ear. Taker has been that muse for me, and I hope you continue to enjoy the inspiration he's been giving me.**

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"Alright, this shit is gonna stop now!" 

Rolling her head to side, Winter squinted against the harsh light streaming through her open doorway. "Go away, Tash," she groaned, swatting her arm as though it would banish her friend from her presence.

But Tasha Dumont wasn't easily swayed. Slamming the door as loudly as she could, she ignored Winter's grunt of protest and flopped onto the couch at the young woman's feet. "You realize that you've missed two days of work, right?" When she got no response, she grabbed Winter's feet and threw them on the floor. "Winter, you're going to lose your job if you don't sober the fuck up and get your shit together."

"I don't care," came the mumbled response from under the pillows. "Doesn't matter."

With a sigh, Tasha leaned back against the couch and stared at the ceiling. "He'll get over it," she promised flatly. "Whatever caused him to fall right out of his mind, he'll figure out what a jackass he was, and he'll be back."

Pulling herself into a seated position, Winter pulled her knees up to her chest and stared at the tweed fabric of the old couch that Mark had always hated, but that she couldn't bear to part with. "He won't call," she sniffled, feeling the tears that she was sure she had put behind her. "Five days without his ring tone," she managed to choke out before another round of sobs took her over.

"Maybe it's better that way," Tasha said dryly, rolling her eyes and thinking of the hideous song that had signified Mark's calls for the last year and a half. "That song sucks, Win," she added.

Winter only nodded her head, resting her chin on her knees. "Pride and Joy," she sighed, seemingly hypnotized by an imaginary spot on her toe. "Stevie Ray Vaughn," she whispered. "I was wearing my striped tights."

Tasha's eyebrow shot up and she turned her head slowly toward her friend. "What the hell?" she asked.

Raising her eyes, Winter felt a small smile tweaking her lips. "I didn't even think he knew how to download a ring tone," she went on, as though she were making perfect sense. "I was wearing my striped tights and my pink sweater." Her eyes drifted to the floor as she began to blink furious tears away. "I was running around, trying to find my black tulle skirt. He was wearing his cowboy hat. Sitting on my bed. He set that song to his number, and told me it would remind me of him, whether I liked it or not." She shook her head and looked curiously into Tasha's eyes. "Why do I remember that? Why the fuck do I remember the tights I was wearing? It's completely useless information."

Caught up in her own thoughts, Tasha shook her head. "There will always be something," she stated flatly, staring at the floor much like her friend was doing at her side. "Something going on that will make you look back," she said, her little nose turning up, "and you'll scrunch up your face because this off the wall thing made you think of something totally," she stopped, searching for the right word, "erratic. And you'll go crazy with wondering why."

"I'm already going crazy," Winter mumbled, forcing herself to stand. After waivering slightly, she gained her footing and raked her fingers through her frizzing locks. "Just fuckin' commit me now," she added without so much as a glance backward while she headed into the kitchen.

Tasha met her at the cabinet and pulled the Jack Daniels bottle from her hand. "I think you've had enough," she said firmly when Winter rolled her eyes. "You go take a shower. I'll make coffee," she instructed.

Leaning against the kitchen counter, Winter hugged her thin arms around her body and fought a chill, realizing for the first time that she was wearing nothing more than a pair of panties and a tank top. "I can't take a shower," she informed her friend. "Mark and I used that shower together."

Tasha heaved a sigh and reached for the cell phone on the counter. Clicking a few buttons, she flipped the phone shut again. "How many of those calls actually connected?" she asked, referring to the innumerable number of calls to Mark's phone in her log of dialed calls.

"None," Winter answered, biting her lip and rocking back and forth a bit. "He made it pretty clear that he was done," she said, her voice catching in her throat as she forced the words past her lips.

Placing the coffee pot onto the maker, Tasha turned and tucked her hair behind her ears. "But you have something to say?" she asked, crossing her arms over her chest and setting her jaw. Every circle of friends had the one person who was forced to be the voice of reason, whether she wanted to be or not. Tasha was that person for her group. And no matter how whiney Winter became, Tasha had to hold her ground. "Did you say it the other night? Did you say anything?"

Winter threw her arms up in the air. "What the fuck was I supposed to say, Tasha? I show up in his hotel room, wrapped in nothing but a big, red bow, and he tells me that he can't see me anymore. I wasn't exactly thinking clearly," she growled, driving her fist into countertop at her side. The pain seered in her knuckles, but she shoved it down by biting her lip.

"So say it now," Tasha shrugged, nodding toward the phone. "It's not like he can break up with you more."

While she would never dream of making the call on her own, something about Tasha's critical eye possessed her to pick up the phone and hit the speed dial. She listened to the ring, praying he wouldn't be around, or would just be ignoring her. If he answered, she knew she wouldn't be able to speak.

"I'm not available. Leave a message," was the simple greeting. Not even enough time for her to chicken out before the beep sounded.

Gathering a deep breath, she ran her hand through her hair and spoke without thinking. If she thought, she would disconnect the call and grab the first bottle of Jack she could find. "Hey, it's me," she started, tears flooding her eyes again before she could stop them. "I was just thinking about you, which is pretty much all I've done for the last few days. Hell, it's pretty much all I've done for the last year and a half," she chuckled slightly as her voice cracked. "Um, look, I don't really know what to say, and I know you're gonna be pissed if I start crying, so," she stopped and sniffled, wishing to hell she could control her emotions like he did.

Tasha watched her friend, the one who had always been so vibrant and energetic. Her hair was greasy and frizzy. Her face was pale and splotchy. Her posture made her seem even smaller than usual. And for a brief moment, she wanted to tear the phone from Winter's hand and tell her it was a bad idea. But she knew that the young woman would never begin to heal if she didn't give herself some sort of closure.

"I just," Winter spoke again, the tears coursing down her cheeks as she fought to maintain some semblence of composure. "I miss you, baby." The sob that followed seemed to surprise her. "And I love you. And I know we can work this out. I know we can. All you have to do is tell me how," she pleaded into the receiver. "Just please tell me how to fix it, because I don't know how much longer I can do this without you." With another sniffle, she disconnected the call and tapped the phone against her lips.

Without hesitation, Tasha went to Winter and wrapped her friend in a tight hug. "It's going to work out, Win," Tasha whispered into her dark hair.

But Winter wasn't so sure. Something had gone wrong, and she wasn't sure it could be fixed.


	4. Alone

**Nothing Compares**

**A/N: Okay, so I'm on a roll. I'm not promising that I'll be keeping up this pace of updating, but I'm so in love with this story and these characters right now that I can't seem to stop writing. Thank you again for your reviews, you guys. You're the best. Enjoy!

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_The bedroom was cloaked in darkness and immersed in a cozy silence that had long-since lulled Winter into a deep, peaceful, Zen-like sleep. Putting in long hours at work to complete a huge project was taking it's toll on her, and she was ready to spend her entire weekend lost in a lucid, dreamlike state. Nothing was going to deter her from getting at least twelve hours of precious shut-eye both nights._

_Except that her phone wouldn't stop ringing. She had been able to shut her friends out, hitting the ignore button, or just flinging the phone across the room. But then another ring interrupted her sleep. Stumbling over the shag carpeting without opening her eyes, Winter felt along the wall in the direction of the offending song that had interrupted her slumber._

"_You better be sexy," she growled into the receiver as she fumbled her way back to the bed, collapsing against the pillow with a grunt._

_The chuckle from the other end of the phone sent her heart racing. "Some say," his low voice carressed her ears. "Did I wake you?"_

_Clearing her throat, Winter rolled over on top of the covers and tilted her face toward the ceiling, her eyes still clamped tightly shut. "Uh uh," she mumbled, fighting like hell to wake herself up. _

"_You sure?" Mark asked, sinking to the chair by the window in his hotel room. Allowing his eyes to roam his city of the moment, he felt his stomach churning at the slow, lazy groaning on the other end of the phone. He had undoubtedly woken her up, just as he had nearly every night for the last month. But she always swore that she didn't mind, that she understood it was the only time he could fit her into his schedule. He didn't have the heart to tell her that he just waited so he could hear that sexy little sleep-stolen pout in her voice._

"_Uh huh," Winter responded, blinking against the darkness. "I'm up," she lied._

_Leaning back in his chair, Mark propped his bare feet up on the balcony railing, stretching his sore back in the process. With a grunt, he said, "I'll make it short."_

_But Winter shook her head. That was the last thing she wanted. Every conversation was too short, whether it was ten minutes or two hours. He had stumbled through a short call about three days after they met at the bar. Another three days without another call, and Winter took it upon herself to make the second move. After that, their friendship was off and running. They hadn't missed a conversation in over three weeks. And she wasn't about to start now._

"_It's fine. I'm up," she promised, hoisting herself into a seated position with great effort. _

_Mark leaned his head back, resting it against the curved top of the stiff chair. What he wouldn't give for the leather recliner in his den at home. "If you're sure," he said, cringing when a pain shot through his knee and up his thigh. It wasn't unusual, but it was incredibly uncomfortable. _

_Her brow furrowed in concern as she listened to him groaning and grunting on the other end of the phone. He had assured her time and time again that it was just a hazard of the job, that he had learned to live with constant, persistent pain, but she still didn't like to hear it. "Are you okay, Mark?" she asked suddenly, reaching across her bare chest to scratch her shoulder._

"_Fine," he answered, unable to admit that he couldn't deal with the pain. If he didn't think about it, it didn't exist. At least, that's what he told himself. He wasn't about to admit that his bones ached every time he took a step. "I was just calling to let you know that they added a make-up show in Beaumont next Saturday."_

_Even after twenty-six consecutive phone calls, she couldn't get used to the softness in his voice. Though she watched him religiously every Friday night, she had a hard time reconciling the bad ass she saw on television with the gentle man she was learning more about every day. It made her heart giggle. "Really?"_

_Mark sighed and relaxed against another lonely hotel bed. Getting up the nerve to call her had been harder than any bump he had ever taken. He wasn't a man easily intimidated, but any man who said he didn't fear the rejection of a beautiful woman was lying through his teeth. Thankfully, she had seemed excited to hear from him. _

_"So that's not too far from Houston," he said, listening for her quiet "mmm hmm." She didn't disappoint. "Think you could maybe make it for the show?" _

_She loved the way he hesitated before asking a question, no matter what the inquiry may have been. "I think I could maybe work it into my schedule. Should I make a big sign? With an arrow? Something like my name, all in caps and glitter, so you know where I am?" she asked, rolling off of the bed and walking around the room, relishing the feeling of the soft, shag carpeting between her toes._

_The laughter that Mark emitted seemed loud in contrast to the rest of their conversation, so he cleared his throat to muffle the sound. "You don't have to," he assured her. "I'll leave some ringside tickets at 'Will Call' for you," he offered. _

_With a pout, Winter rested her right hand on her hip and ran the fingers of her left through her matted hair. "But then what do I do with all of that glitter I've been hiding in my underwear drawer?" she asked, smiling to herself when he laughed again. There was something about making him laugh that filled her with a sense of pride. Coming from the man who never smiled on camera, it felt like an enormous accomplishment. "I could make something cute. Something like 'Undertaker - Call me!' And I could put my phone number on it."_

_"Um," he stopped laughing and considered her suggestion. "Unless you want every guy in the arena calling you during the show, and after, you might wanna rethink that one," he recommended._

_"Oh," Winter nodded. "Except that maybe one of 'em would have some suggestions on where a girl can get a drink in Beaumont," she baited. "I don't really know that area very well, and I don't wanna drive all the way over there for a two hour show, just to turn around and drive all the way home."_

_She had worked every trick in the book in an attempt to figure out how he was feeling about her. They connected - she knew that much. But he never alluded to desiring anything more than a friendship with her, and she was starting to get frustrated. Not that she didn't understand. She just didn't like it much. _

_"Ah," he acknowledged her concerns. "Well, you don't need a bunch of horny strangers telling you where to get a drink. I know Beaumont pretty well," he assured her._

_Winter couldn't fight the smile on her lips. "And you'll buy me a drink?" she asked._

_"I'll be pissed if you let anyone else," he answered her question honestly and without hesitation._

_"Ya know," Winter hinted with a coy tone, "this is kinda soundin' a little like a date." She knew she was pushing her luck, but she just couldn't help it. The more she learned about him, the more she wanted him to be closer than he was._

_Mark let his eyes drift to the ceiling. If he said what he was thinking, they would cross a line. He was loving what he knew about her so far, but his lifestyle was crazy, and he wasn't sure he wanted to drag someone he actually cared about into it. It was an internal war that had raged within him from the moment he decided to become a wrestler. _

_He'd had girlfriends, a few of them serious, over the last fifteen years. But when it came down to choosing between them and his career, wrestling always came first. And none of them had liked that very much. Why should Winter be any different? Why should he ask her to be?_

_'Because you like her, dumbass.' His own voice echoed in his head as he realized he had grown strangely silent. Even more peculiar was the fact that she hadn't pressed him for an answer. 'She knows you. At least enough to know not to push.' That in itself was enough to curl his lips._

_"That's because it is," he acknowledge, his chest warming when she let out a little squeal. "Are you doin' the happy dance?" he asked, referencing the dance she had described to him on more than one occasion._

_Winter stopped moving her feet and blushed wildly. Thank God he's not here to see it. "Um, maybe," she admitted, knowing that he already suspected the truth anyway. "Just a little bit."_

_"So that's a yes then?" he asked, amusement dancing in his question._

_Biting her lip, Winter considered playing hard to get. He seemed to like it when she challenged him. "Well, I would say yes. If you had actually asked."_

_With a groan, Mark ran his hand over his face and blinked his tired eyes. "What did I tell you about being difficult, Missy?"_

_When Winter heard him yawn, she allowed herself to crawl back into the bed. "That you find it irresistibly sexy?" she asked in a husky tone that brought a hiss from his end of the phone. "That you can't get enough of my smartassness?" He mumbled a low 'mmm hmm,' his voice fading as exhaustion crashed over him. "That it drives you up a fuckin' wall?" _

_"All of the above," he groaned, pulling the stiff blankets over his hips as he tried to find some comfort in the foreign bed. "I hate to do this to you, Sweetheart," he sighed._

_Rolling over onto her back, Winter allowed her eyes to drift shut. He might never know just how deeply his moans and groans affected her, but the dampness forming between her thighs was a testament to just how sexy he could be without even trying. "I know, but you need your sleep," she agreed. "Men your age aren't really good at staying up all night."_

_He took her barb in stride, shaking his head. "Don't you worry, Sugar," he assured her. "I got no problem stayin' up as long as I need to."_

_It was more than Winter could handle, those few words. She knew that, if she didn't hang up right then, she was going to give him a groaning show of her own. "Get some sleep," she instructed softly. "I'll talk to you tomorrow night."_

_Mark sighed and grunted his confirmation of the plan. "Tomorrow."_


	5. Happy Birthday Blues

**Nothing Compares**

**A/N: Here I am again with another humble chapter to offer. Your response to this story is incredible, and it absolutely amazes me to no end. Thank you so much! To Maeggy, and the rest of who you who have figured out the pattern, the story will indeed continue alternating between the past and the present, all ramping up to the end, where everything comes crashing together! Until then, though, Enjoy!

* * *

**

The last place that Winter wanted to be on Saturday night was a smokey bar in downtown Houston. It was obvious to everyone. She had finally managed to shower and put some make up on, but the her scowl said she'd rather be anywhere else.

When her friend, Dominic, had called her months ago to invite her to his thirtieth birthday bash, she had been happy to accept. When he told her that the only gift he expected from her was one song, performed by his favorite voice in the entire world, she had been honored. But that was before her world had turned upside down.

Now, the last thing she wanted to be doing was sitting at the side of the stage, trying to remember the words to the song she had prepared, and waiting for Dominic to give her the signal to take the spotlight. The song itself would be easy - she had done it a hundred times before with her band. But she just didn't have the desire anymore. To do anything.

"Hey, Win," Tasha's soft hand on her back made Winter jump. When the young woman turned and cut the power on her IPod, Tasha smiled sweetly. "I hate to do this to you, but Dominic has a request."

Her stomach dropped to her toes. She knew the song that he wanted, but she knew that she couldn't do it. She just couldn't get up there and sing the one song that he swore she was born to sing. "I can't," she insisted, shaking her head vigorously.

Tasha knew that it was hard. The song was painful, and it would take everything out of her friend. But she also knew that, for all of the wallowing Winter had done in the past two weeks, she still had a lot of pent up hurt to express. "I know you don't want to, Sweetie, but," she started.

But Winter stood and slammed her chair against the floor. "I can't do it, Tasha. I can't go up there and sing that song and not think about HIM. I'll never make it through. I'll break down, and I'll let Dominic down, and I just can't bear to see another man looking at me with those eyes!"

The outburst drew the attention of a few patrons near the stage, but Winter didn't care. There was nothing in the world that would convince her to sing that song. Anything but that one.

"Win?"

Turning, she felt Dominic's large hand on her forearm. Meeting his eyes, she shook her head. "I'm sorry, Dom," she started to apologize.

"It's my birthday," he reasoned with a smirk.

And, as though he held some magic powers, Winter crumbled. "Alright, fine," she sighed, holding up a finger. "But if I lose it up there, I'm blaming you," she warned. Dominic had been her rock long before she ever met Mark, and she couldn't bring herself to say "no," even though everything in her head was screaming that she should just run out the back door and never look back.

He kissed the side of her head and stepped onto the stage, applause breaking out as their friends and his family in attendance shouted their congratulations on his special day. "Thanks," Dominic laughed into the microphone, his eyes flitting to the side to make sure she was still there. "So, thanks to all of you for coming out tonight. It means a lot to me on this momentous occasion."

"Well, you're gettin' old now!" Someone shouted from the back of the room.

"Yeah!" Another voice agreed. "We don't know how many more chances we'll have!"

With a good natured chuckle, Dominic flipped the hecklers off and continued his introduction. "Okay, so I have this friend," he said, motioning for Winter to join him on the stage. "And we've been knowin' each other for a long time now. And the first time I ever heard her sing, it was in a talent showcase our junior year in high school. She sang this song, and I swear to God, it was like time stopped," he said, turning to Winter and winking.

She wasn't sure what he said after that, as Winter tuned him out and moved to the stool in the middle of the stage to prepare for her song. Adjusting the microphone on the stand before her, she propped one foot up on the top rung of her stool and rested the other against the floor. _You can do this, Win. You can do it for Dominic._

"Ladies and gentlemen," Dominic wrapped up, turning with a flourish to gesture toward his friend. "Winter Kipley."

When he took his place in the front row, Winter cleared her throat and wrapped both hands around the microphone. Pressing her mouth against the cool metal, she offered the man of the hour a small smile. "Happy birthday, Dom," was all she said before motioning to the band that she was ready.

_"It's been several hours and fifteen days since you took your love away_," she began the opening chords of Sinead O'Conner's 'Nothing Compares to You,' trying her best not to think about what she was saying. "_I go out every night and sleep all day since you took your love away."_

But no amount of trying was going to keep his memories from slamming into her mind. Closing her eyes tightly, she sang, "_Nothing compares. Nothing compares to you_." She could see his green eyes twinkling as that smile he tried so hard to keep at bay slowly spread across his lips.

The deep rumbling of his voice echoed in her ears as she thought about the nights she spent pressed against his chest, failing to comprehend what he was saying, only knowing that the soft vibrations of his voice would lull her into a peaceful sleep. "_It's been so lonely without you here. I'm like a bird without a song."_

It was hopeless. There was no way she could put her emotions on the backburner as the tears began to streak her round cheeks. _"Nothing can stop these lonely tears from falling. Tell me, baby, where did I go wrong?" _Her eyes burned as the mascara and eyeliner made their way down her face. There was no point in trying to stop it now. The dam had broken, and the world was about to see just how deeply she was feeling the loss of her only love.

_"All of the flowers that you planted in the backyard all died when you went away," _she continued to croon, though her voice was somewhat strained. _"I know that living with you, baby, was sometimes hard, but I'm willing to give it another try." _She raked her fingers through her straightened hair, struggling to grasp anything that felt solid in that moment. "_Nothing compares_," she finished the song, knowing full well that every person in that bar knew she was a mess.

When the music faded, she stood and left the stage without a word, despite the thundering applause that her performance had earned. All she wanted was the crisp night air on her face. She needed to get away, and fast.

Pushing through the back door of the bar, she squatted beside the dumpster and allowed the sobs to wrack her body. He was gone. Mark was gone. She had pleaded with his voice mail, and he hadn't returned her call. She had prayed, but God wasn't listening. Or He knew something that she didn't. Either way, she had to find a way to accept that it was over.

Whether she was sobbing too loud to notice, or she just didn't care, the deep voice that met Winter's ears was a shock. "Need a friend?"

She squeezed her eyes tighter and lowered herself to the pavement. Raising her knees, she rested her head in her hands and rocked herself back and forth. "What are you doing here?" she asked.

Lowering himself to the ground beside her, John Cena rested his head against the wall and looked out over the back parking lot. "My cousin knows Dominic," he answered simply.

Winter had only met him on a few occasions, when she had travelled to Supershows with Mark, but he wasn't the kind of guy to whom one had to warm up. They had an instant chemistry, and she relished any chance she got to chat with him about pop culture, politics, and any other topic onto which they stumbled.

When she didn't respond to him, John took a rock from the ground and tossed it a few feet. "I had no idea you had that in you," he sighed, shaking his head. "That performance was," he stumbled for a word. "It was amazing, Win," he complimented.

She shrugged and finally lifted her head, resting it against the cold bricks behind them. "Yeah," she huffed. "Amazingly humiliating," she sighed, wiping her nose with the spandex band around her wrist. "I just don't know," she started and then stopped. "I don't know how to live without him, John," she managed to whisper.

"I didn't know you had to," he admitted. She turned surprised eyes to him, and John just shrugged. "He's a private guy, Win. He didn't exactly send an e-mail to let us all know."

_Of course he didn't. I'm sure he hasn't changed a bit. _She sighed and picked at the hole in the knee of her pants. "Yeah, I've been hidin' it pretty well, too," she said sarcastically.

John rolled his head against the wall and took in the broken image of her mascara-smeared face. "We thought you left his ass. It was the only thing we could come up with, as pissy as he's been lately," he said. She said nothing, but he could see the twinkle of hope in her eyes. "Two weeks ago, right?" he asked. She nodded. "Yeah, he's been PMS'n big time."

Though it made her feel slightly better to know he had been in a bad mood, a part of her screamed not to get too carried away. _Probably because he realized he wasted a year and a half of his life_, she thought as she fought her way to her feet. "Yeah, well, I guess that's his own fault," she said, suddenly feeling the need to pretend like she didn't care.

John just nodded. "I guess it is," he said, trying to wrap his head around what he had learned tonight. The couple he had most anticipated seeing walk down the aisle was no more. Neither one of them was happy about it, yet both seemed perfectly content to pretend that it was okay. And Winter seemed completely unaware that she had the voice of an angel. "Can I ask you a question?" he asked suddenly, watching her pace angrily near the dumpster. "What are you gonna do about it?"

She laughed cynically and crossed her arms over her chest, rubbing her arms protectively. "I have no fucking clue," she sighed. "I mean, for the last year and a half, he's been the only life that I have seen for myself. I honestly don't know what to do if he's not a part of it." Stopping, she kicked the dumpster and shoved her hands into her hair. "How pathetic is that?"

John watched her pacing, wondering how he was supposed to answer that question. By most standards, it was pretty pathetic. But he couldn't deny there was something sexy about a woman so committed to her man that she would be lost without him. At least, from a male perspective. "You were in love," he reasoned. "Nobody plans for what comes after," he added. "Not while they're in it."

She sighed and looked at the watch on her wrist. "I should probably get back in there before they start worrying that I killed myself or something."

He nodded and stood, holding his arms open. "Come here," he commanded, taking a step forward when she hesitated. "It won't solve everything, but it's something." She stepped into his embrace, and John felt her collapse again. He knew it wasn't his place, but he felt bad leaving her there to suffer alone. "If you want me to, I'll try to find out what happened."

Winter pulled back from his embrace and shook her head. Wiping the smudged eyes, she sniffled before speaking. "Do you really think he would tell you?" John rolled his eyes. "Yeah. I think it'll be easier to move on if we just leave well enough alone," she lied, trying her best to hold back the tantrum building in her mind. "But thank you for the offer. It means a lot."

He nodded and turned back toward the bar, holding the door open for her. They said nothing else to each other, but John couldn't help thinking that the relationship between Mark and Winter wasn't as over as they were both wanted to believe.


	6. Whiskey Girl

**Nothing Compares**

_Not for the first time, Winter wondered what the hell she was doing backstage at a WWE event. When the security guard had found her at ringside and asked her to follow him, she had been slightly nervous. Of course, she had talked to Mark about meeting him backstage after the show, but that didn't occur to her when the large man with the bright yellow shirt addressed her by name._

_The overwhelming chaos that was the backstage area enveloped Winter as soon as the entered, and she was quick to find a corner and try to make herself invisible. She wasn't intimidated by them, just a little worried that some seven foot brick wall of muscle would accidentally slam into her and bruise her before the biggest date of her life._

_After sitting alone, being virtually ignored for nearly twenty minutes, questions started to flood her mind. Mark had taken some pretty hard bumps during his match with Batista, and she couldn't help wondering if he would still be up for drinks at a local bar. She wondered what the hell she was supposed to do if he changed his mind. And she wondered if he would even recognize her when he finally showed up. _

_The corset and jeans that she had chosen for the evening were a far cry from the wedding gown she had sported the night they met. Her hair was piled on top of her head in a sloppy ponytail, while it had been hanging down her back that night at the bar. What if he didn't know it was her? Would he still want to take her out if he saw her now?_

_The loud sound of several laughing voices drew Winter further into her doubts. When she saw him, standing head and shoulders above everyone except the man at his side, she felt her heart speed up. He was freshly showered, his long, dark hair tied back in a ponytail, but hanging, damp, over his shoulder. Dressed in jeans and a tee shirt, complete with a do-rag and motorcycle jacket, Winter fought the urge to jump up and down and tell everyone, at the top of her lungs, that he was her date._

_Instead, she settled for twisting her fingers together and staring at her toes. They had a pretty great relationship on the phone. Honestly, she couldn't think of one thing she didn't like about Mark. She already found herself drawn to him, worried about his health, and concerned for the way his schedule affected his overall well-being. She spoke of him as she would a boyfriend, and her friends knew that she had already put the car in gear on the road of falling in love. But she'd only actually spent about fifteen minutes in his presence. And now she was scared that her heart might be wrong._

_"I'll see you later, man," the giant next to Mark was saying as the pair moved closer to Winter's hiding place in the corner of the madness._

_With a nod, Mark shook his hand and stopped, his back to her. "We're just grabbin' a drink, man," he assured his friend. "You wanna come with?"_

_Without warning, the bald man turned to Winter and smiled. "I think you better ask your date first," he advised, extending a hand to the young woman. "I'm Glen," he introduced himself as both men turned their full attention to her._

_Gathering all of the confidence that she could muster, Winter pushed off of the table and thrust her hand into his. "Winter," she said, praying her voice wouldn't crack. "And I don't mind," she added, her eyes refusing to meet Mark's. It was as if looking at him would make him less real. If she turned her attention in his direction, he wouldn't really be there, and she didn't think she could bear it. "You're welcome to join us."_

_"Thanks for the offer," Glen declined the offer. "But I need to make a few phone calls before I call it a night."_

_  
When Glen was gone, Mark took a moment to look over the young woman at his side. She had been collected, appearing almost bored, at ringside when he had taken a minute to look at her. And when he had rounded the corner at the end of the hall just moments earlier, she was staring at her lap and looking a little bit nauseous. But she was there. And he'd been told that he was intimidating. Maybe she was just nervous._

_Shifting his gym back to his left hand, he rested his right on the small of her back, noting that she seemed to stiffen when he made contact with the warm skin between her jeans and her top. "You ready to get out of here?"_

_Winter nodded and led the way, guided by the hand sending bolts of electricity up her spine. She felt like the most popular girl in high school as he continued sharing greetings with his co-workers on the way out of the building. No one asked who she was, and he offered no introductions. Though it felt a bit strange, she couldn't help welling up with pride when she saw the way people treated him. _

_Neither spoke until they were out of sight, and ear shot, from everyone. Lifting his finger, Mark pointed around the corner and motioned for her to take a left. Though she only nodded her response, Winter was beginning to wonder if he would speak to her at all during the evening. Was it going to be completely awkward the entire night? Had she wasted her time, and a lot of expensive gas, on this trip?_

_Turning the corner, Mark couldn't help smiling at the sleek, silver bike awaiting his arrival. He loved being back in Texas, where he could always find a friend willing to loan him transportation for the weekend. Having a driver in the cities with which he was unfamiliar was a blessing, but there was something comforting about being back home again._

_Securing his bag in the cargo bin on the back of the bike, he turned back to Winter and looked her over. "Damn," was all he said, smiling even brighter when she blushed. _

_Unsure of what to say, or do, she stood awkwardly with her hands clasped behind her back, staring at the floor, and risking short glances at him through her eyelashes. Though she was aware she probably looked like some love-struck teeny bopper, Winter couldn't fight the effect he was having on her. "You, too," she added, raising her eyes to drink in massive form. _

_With one step forward, he opened his arms and enveloped her in a warm, protective hug. They were friends, after all. They'd spent the last month keeping each other company into the wee hours of the morning. There was no reason they should feel so awkward. At least, that's what Mark kept telling himself. People didn't scare him. They didn't intimidate him. He didn't get nervous. 'So why's your heart pounding in your throat, Dumb ass?'_

_Winter wrapped her arms around his neck and strained on her toes to match the length of his body. "It's so good to see you again," she breathed against the skin of his neck as he bent his head toward hers. She released her hold on his neck and slid her hands over the soft leather of his jacket when he finally let her feet touch the floor again._

_Clearing his throat, Mark looked to the bike and inwardly commanded himself to pull it together. She was Winter. She was the woman behind the voice he had come to rely on every night. She was the one that he needed to hear from before he could find peaceful sleep. She was the woman he was dangerously close to caring too much for, too quickly. She was also about to become the woman who thought he was a date rapist, or something even creepier, if he didn't think of something to say._

_"You ever ride on of these bad boys?" he asked, patting the seat of the bike. Winter shook her head. "It's easy," he assured her with a smile, pulling the keys from the pocket of his jacket. "Make sure you put your butt in the middle of the seat, and follow my lead," he said._

_Winter nodded, looking at the helmet that he was offering her. "Right. Follow you. Got it," she repeated, watching as he mounted the vehicle. Swinging his left leg over, he lowered himself into the seat and took a moment to settle himself. He made everything look so easy._

_When he was situated, Mark turned the key and choked the clutch, waiting for the bike to purr to life before turning to see Winter watching him skeptically. Before he could ask what was wrong, she raised her arm and released her curls from the confines of the ponytail. _

_It was like something out of a movie, the way she shook her hair and raked through the locks. The smirk she shot him said she knew exactly the effect that little move had made. "My hair was too big," she offered with a shrug, moving to the bike and brushing his thigh with hers. "Butt in the middle of the seat, right?" she asked._

_He nodded and turned his attention back to the dash, struggling for anything that felt familiar. Anything but the feeling she was giving him. He liked control, and without many words, Winter Kipley was on the verge of stealing every inch of it from him. When he felt her body slide in behind him, he lowered his head and blinked his eyes to regain his composure. "You set?"_

_Winter licked her lips and leaned forward. "What am I supposed to hold on to back here?" she asked over the hum of the engine._

_Mark couldn't help laughing - it was as if she was on his phone again, voice in his ear while he drifted away. "Whatever you can find," he instructed._

_Swallowing her nerves, Winter stuffed the helmet over her head and wrapped her arms around his waist. With her tiny hands on his abdomen, she leaned forward again. "Like this?" she asked._

_He nodded and secured his own helmet before roaring toward the doors of the loading dock. As though waiting for him, someone opened the doors from the outside, and Mark guided the bike with little effort through the parking lot. His heart was pounding, but as long as Winter kept her hands on his stomach, she wouldn't have to know that._

_Though she was sure the whipping wind flowing over her body contributed somewhat, Winter knew that the floating feeling she was experiencing had nothing to do with the trip toward whatever bar he had chosen for the night. She'd had the feeling since he had entered the arena earlier in the evening. And she prayed it never stopped._

_-----_

_Mark had learned early in his career that it was far less damaging to accept a fall than to try to break it. And when, after twenty minutes of watching American Idol rejects parade across the karoke stage, Winter stood and announced that they needed to be shown how it was done, he decided it was time to accept the fall._

_She gripped the microphone in one hand, and waited as the opening strains of Heart's 'Alone' flowed through the speakers. Watching the monitor carefully, she began the haunting power ballad with the confidence of a seasoned performer. _

_"I hear the ticking of the clock. I'm lying here, the room's pitch dark. I wonder where you are tonight. No answer on the telephone. And the night goes by so very slow. Oh, I hope that it won't end, though, alone." The sway of her hips was hypnotic as she demanded the attention of every man in the bar, causing a slight pang of jealousy in her companion's gut._

_Throwing her head back, she belted the chorus with force. "Till now, I always got by on my own. I never really cared until I met you." Zeroing in on her date, she levelled him with an intense stare "And now it tears me to the bone. How do I get you alone?" _

_By the time she finished the song, most of the bar's patrons were standing and applauding, and Mark found himself reclined in his chair, fighting the overwhelming urge to throw her over his shoulder and carry her into the parking lot. _

_She took a bow and skpped off the stage, brushing her hands together as she winked at him. Sliding into the chair on his side of the table, she looked back to the stage. "That's how it's done." _

_He nodded and motioned for the waitress to bring another drink for each of them. "You deserve two after that," he complimented. "Or maybe I do." Winter blushed deeply at his compliment, and Dave just clinked his glass against hers. "You were great."_

_It was just silly karaoke, and Winter could have cared less if anyone else in the room even heard her. The look of admiration on Mark's face was more than enough adulation. None of the other songs she had ever sung meant anything in that moment. Not with him looking at her like the next Pat Benatar. "Thanks," she answered shyly._

_"I mean it. You should do that shit professionally, Win. You're fuckin' good," he doted. When she just rolled her eyes and turned her attention to the napkin on the table before her, his hand found it's way under the table to her thigh. She raised her eyes slowly, and he smiled. "You know I don't say shit I don't mean."_

_With a nod, she covered his hand with her own, lost in his emerald gaze. Her own eyes danced at the compliment. "I know," she answered softly, finishing off her drink and pushing it away from the table._

_They talked for another hour as patrons filtered in and out of the bar around them. Winter listened intently as he talked about his travels around the world, and Mark couldn't help laughing at the flair with which she relayed stories of her colorful cast of friends. It was as if neither noticed a world outside of theirs, too caught up in falling further into each other. _

_"Excuse me," the waitress interrupted their conversation after nearly two hours in the small bar. "This is for you," she added, setting a Whiskey Sour on a napkin in front of Winter._

_With a look of bewilderment, Winter dragged her eyes away from Mark. "From who?" she asked incredulously._

_The waitress, a girl who barely looked old enough to be allowed into a bar, rolled her eyes and nodded toward the bar. "That jackass at the end of the bar," she answered. "I told him that your really big boyfriend probably wouldn't like it, but he said he'd try his luck anyway." Turning to Mark, she raised an eyebrow. "If you're gonna kill him, could you do it in the parking lot? I'm supposed to have a date when I get off and I don't wanna be late cause I was cleaning his pathetic blood of the floor."_

_Winter laughed as she walked away, but Mark was far from smiling. Smacking his arm playfully, she huffed. "Stop pouting," she said. "It's not a big deal."_

_He knew the guy probably wasn't even worth his time, but Mark couldn't help turning and growling at him anyway. The guy only stood and walked to the jukebox in the corner, selecting a specific song with a smirk on his lips, as though he thought he stood a chance with Winter. "This'll just take a minute," he promised, pushing away from the table._

_  
But Winter rested her hand on his thigh and massaged his tense muscles. "Would you relax?" she asked, shaking her head. "It's just a drink," she insisted. "Stop bein' a jealous ass," she added._

_Slowly turning his head toward the young woman at his side, he raised an eyebrow and started to speak, but then shut his mouth. With a sigh, he put an arm around the back of her chair. "I told you I was gonna get pissed if anybody else tried to buy you a drink," he reminded._

_Releasing her hair from the ponytail once again, Winter flipped her head over and shook out the tangles. Standing up, she smoothed her hands over her top and turned to face the man at the back of the bar. With a flirtateous smile on her lips, she handed the drink to Mark. "Oh, he wants me," she confirmed, noting the way the young man at the jukebox licked his lips and nodded to the machine. "He's playin' a song just for li'l ol' me."_

_Mark wasn't amused. He was jealous. And he was starting to get pissed. "This isn't funny, Winter. I don't like him lookin' at my girl like that."_

_The way he said "my girl" drove her crazy as she continued holding the eye of her admirer. The wailing guitar of Toby Keith's 'Whiskey Girl' filled the room, and she gave an appreciative nod. "I love this song," she told Mark, though her eyes never left the other man._

_'She ain't into wine and roses. Beer just makes her turn up her nose and she can't stand the thought of sipping champagne. No Cuervo Gold margaritas. Just aint enough good burn in tequila.' As the song continued to play around them, she took the drink from Mark's hand and tilted her head, finishing the glass in one drink. 'She needs something with a little more edge, and a little more pain. She's my little Whiskey Girl. My ragged-on-the-edges girl. Oh, but I like 'em rough.'_

_Dropping her glass to the table, Winter continued watching the man while Mark grew increasingly more impatient with her little flirt session. "What the hell are you doin'?" he asked._

_She swung one leg over his massive thighs, slowly lowering her frame into his lap. While Winter was trying to prove a point, she hadn't expected to be met with a warm, stiff surprise. Closing her eyes, she moaned as the heat began to pool between her thighs. His sheer size caused her feet to leave the floor when she was fully seated on him. When he rested his large hands on her hips, Winter pressed her chest against his and leaned forward, sucking his earlobe between her lips as her other friend at the bar groaned in disgust. _

_When she released Mark's ear, she whispered, "I'm makin' sure he knows there's only one man in this bar that stands a chance of gettin' in my pants tonight." The growl that answered her statement caused her to shift, grinding herself further into his growing erection._

_Pulling back slightly, Mark grabbed his jacket from the chair beside him and threw a few bills on the table. "You ready to get outta here?"_

_"Oh, God, yes," Winter moaned. She jumped off of his lap and grabbed her own coat, taking his hand as he stood and held his jacket in front of him, nearly dragging her out of the bar._

_Once he was seated on the bike, Winter moved to his side and slung one leg over his thigh. "Do you have any idea how damn sexy you are when you're jealous?"_

_With an arm around her back, he pulled her close and covered her lips with his own. Her small body melted into his and it was all he could do to keep the bike upright. Deciding between continuing to relish her tongue against his and being crushed under the weight of the bike, Mark pulled back. With a wink, he handed her a helmet and motioned to the back of bike. "Not half as sexy as you are when you're makin' me that way," _


	7. Here By Me

**Nothing Compares**

**A/N: Okay, guys, so it's been a trying couple of days for me. My apartment flooded yesterday, and while I was able to salvage most of my possessions, my computer is being a little bit touchy. For a few hours, I thought that I had lost the four chapters of this story that I had written in advance, but I was able to get into the documents and back them up, so it's all good. However, there might be a slight delay in my postings, just because I don't know when I'm going to have to leave my apartment and let them lay the new carpet.**

**Alright, so now that the "blech" stuff is over, I just want to say thanks for your continued support. It really does mean the world to me. When life feels like it just won't stop around me, I can always comfort myself by reading your kind words. Thank you all from the bottom of my heart. And, as always, Enjoy!

* * *

**

"You seriously look so fine tonight, Winter."

Risking a sideways glance at her date for the evening, Winter cringed inwardly. Bill was a nice enough guy. He was always complimenting her at work, and asking about her weekend. They even shared a few lunches together in the office kitchen, and she enjoyed his off-beat sense of humor.

But he wasn't Mark. His six foot frame paled in comparison to Mark's. His brown eyes seemed dull and lifeless when she held them up to the twinkle in Mark's emerald orbs. His voice was average, nothing next to Mark's deep, vibrating timber. And then there were his fingers.

When he had reached over the console to take her hand in his, Winter's heart had jumped. Aside from the hug John had given her, she hadn't really had contact with another man since her relationship had ended, and it felt strange. Fixating on their entwined hands, she fought to keep the tears at bay. It wasn't Bill's fault that he had stumpy fingers, but it was one more attribute that just didn't measure up to the man of her dreams.

Tasha always told her that it was strange, her fascination with fingers. While Winter couldn't explain it, she had always been taken with a man's hands, and not only for sexual purposes. There was something powerful about a man with long fingers. Something about the way the bones moved and the veins pressed against his flesh, as if everything in him was straining for control, and he was somehow able to maintain it.

She figured that, if Bill made a fist, she wouldn't be able to see his knuckles, either. Not that it really mattered in the long run, but she couldn't help staring at his fleshy knuckles. When Mark made a fist, each bone was prominently displayed, ready to tear someone apart. And though she knew it was ridiculous, it was one more thing about him that had always made her feel safe, like he could do some serious damage in defending her honor.

"So, I know this isn't the most romantic first date ever," Bill spoke again, pulling her out of her thoughts. "But I promise you, it will be a good time."

As he eased the car into the parking lot of the sports arena, Winter blinked here eyes and realized that she hadn't even asked where they were going. A Rockets game? She didn't know that he was a basketball fan, but she couldn't say that she minded. If the game was good, she wouldn't have to talk much. And if it sucked, she could just pretend to be pouting over the poor play.

But then her eyes flitted to the flashing sign on the side of the building. **WWE Smackdown: Sold Out**. Her heart sank into her shoes. What the hell was he thinking? _Doesn't he know this is not the place I wanna be? _She thought for a brief moment of opening the door and rolling out of the car, but with the death grip he had on her hand, she would never be able to break free.

"Most girls think it's kinda weird, but you're not like most girls, so I figured what the hell, right?" Bill went on to explain as he parked the car.

Could he have been a more insensitive ass? What guy in his right mind would bring a girl to the very place her ex-boyfriend would be? And on their first date, no less? "I haven't really watched it lately," she mumbled.

He jumped out of the car and opened her door, pulling his Original Dead Man skull cap over his hair in the process. He was completely oblivious to what he had done, and she doubted he would even care that she was immensely uncomfortable. Maybe she could just rip that stupid hat off his head. Maybe that would show him.

As they headed toward the building, Winter stuffed her hands into the pockets of her plaid pants and hoped that this date didn't get any worse. If she just avoided the merchandise tables, and didn't get stuck sitting next to any of his fans, she might be able to hold it together. Maybe.

"So, do you know anything about wrestling?" Bill asked, his eyes growing wide as a light bulb seemed to go on in his head. "Wait, didn't you date a wrestler for a while?" When Winter nodded, he laughed. "That's awesome. Did you ever go to any of the shows?"

She bit her lip as she nodded. "Quite a few, actually," she answered softly. If she was going to be stuck with him for the entire night, she would have to at least attempt a conversation. Maybe she could think of something to steer him away from the topic, or at least keep him from realizing that he was sporting her ex's monicker all over his head and his chest.

---

An hour into the show, Winter was losing her mind. Every guy that stepped through the curtain and ran toward the ring brought another memory rushing over her. She knew them all, had spent her fair share of time with them as she travelled to be with Mark on the weekends and during her vacations. They had begun to feel like her own family, and now she was in the rafters, watching them from afar. Watching them move on with their lives while hers grinded to a painful halt.

"I'm going to run to the restroom," she said as Kane's pyro exploded in the arena.

Bill just nodded and returned his eyes to the action, cheering and whistling with the other fans around him. He'd barely said three words to her the whole night, and while she found it a little bit rude, Winter couldn't say that she minded. She hadn't exactly been gregarious herself.

As Winter walked through the concourse, she couldn't help breathing deeply the scent of nachos and stale beer, and remembering the countless evenings she had wandered areas just like this one, waiting for Mark's match. She loved sneaking into the cheap seats, watching the crowd as they lost their minds over his arrival. That single gong, the one that started his entrance, along with the blue lights and the electricity of the fans, always made the hairs on the back of her neck stand up.

And now she just wanted to run into the parking lot until it was over. She couldn't be in that arena when he showed up. As soon as she had seen his name on the card, her heart rate had doubled and she knew, no matter how hard she tried to pretend, she just wasn't ready.

"Dude, come on!" an insistent voice interrupted her thoughts. "He's not gonna attack the guy. He just wants an autograph."

She couldn't help smiling as she turned and leaned against the railing. From her vantage point, she could see the barricade that separated the fans from the gorilla area. A young man, probably around her age, stood with a small boy, probably around ten, who was eagerly bouncing on his heels. She had seen Mark stop and sign autographs for so many kids just like that, and it had warmed her insides every time.

"I don't really care," she security guard told the man. "You think the Hardys have nothing better to do than come over here and scribble on your kid's stuff?"

"This is bull shit!" the father spat, but it didn't deter the security guard.

When the little boy turned, his dejected face broke her heart. Looking around, she realized that he had found a pretty secluded entrance, one that he was probably thrilled to have discovered in the first place. It was like a well-kept secret, and now that he was in on it, she didn't want to see him walk away without the very thing he had come for.

She knew that Matt and Jeff were in the building - she had just watched their match against MNM. Carefully scanning the area behind the guard, she smiled and approached the the man and his son. "Hey," she smiled, offering a shy, little wave. "Sorry to interrupt, but I think I might be able to help you guys get that autograph," she winked, her chest swelling at the glimmer of hope in the boy's dark eyes.

"You can?" he asked, looking at the security guard while biting his lip nervously.

Raising her arms in the air, Winter began jumping. "JOEY!" she shouted as loudly as she could. "JOEY MERCURY!"

"Miss, you need to keep it down," the guard warned. "I will have you escorted from the building."

With a sigh, she watched Joey move around a corner, out of sight. With a smirk, she turned back to the man with the badge and shook her head. "Oh, you so don't wanna do that," she told him. Before he could answer her, another figure caught her eye. "JOHNNY NITRO!" she called. "MELINA!"

The couple turned in the direction of the voice, squinting across the distance before wide smiles stretched over their faces. "Winter?" Melina asked, skipping toward them. "Where the hell you been, girlie?" she asked, leaning over the barricade to hug the young woman who had once held her hair after a chugging contest in a hotel bar.

Winter shook her head, reminding herself to stick to the task at hand. All she had to do was get this kid backstage and maybe she could feel like the night wasn't a total waste. "Um, this young man wants some Hardy autographs," she explained.

Rolling his eyes, Nitro pushed his sunglasses up on his head. "Of course he does," he groaned, smiling as quickly as he had cringed.

"I'll take your's, too," the kid offered, as though that would help get him past the wall.

Noting that the security guard had grown strangely quiet, Winter made sure to smile widely at him before she continued her conversation. "You think you can help him out?"

"I think so," Melina nodded, motioning for her boyfriend to help the kid over. She extended a hand to his father and winked at Winter. "You comin'?" she asked.

With a shake of her head, Winter wrapped her arms around herself and rubbed her arms slowly. "No. I gotta get goin'," she said.

Somewhere in the commotion, another one of the wrestlers had come toward them, in an attempt to suss out the situation. "Winter?" he asked as he scribbled his name on the IC belt in his hands.

She offered him a small smile and returned her hands to her pockets, feeling incredibly awkward at the moment. "Hey, Jeff," she sighed.

Though Jeff had only been back for a few months, and spent most of that time on the Raw side of things, Winter had gotten her fair share of exposure to the young risk taker. For some reason, Mark had always had a soft spot for the kid, and he had spent more than a couple of weekends at the ranch during the course of Mark and Winter's relationship.

He finished signing autographs for the young fan and then instructed Nitro and Melina to take their new friends on the grand tour. Walking over the barricade, he looked Winter over with a sheepish grin. "I didn't think I'd ever see you again," he said.

Blushing, she tucked her hair behind her ears and shrugged. "I kinda thought the same thing," she admitted.

Without another word, Jeff reached across the barrier and lifted Winter into his arms. "Come on," he said enthusiastically, setting her feet back on the floor and dragging her by the hand toward the action backstage. "You gotta come say hi. There's a bunch of people who would love to see you."

She wanted to run, but her feet felt frozen in place as he rounded the corner. The one person who probably wouldn't love to see her. He was dressed in ring attire, hair wet, with his leather duster slung over his arm and his large hat in his hands. When his heavily-lined eyes met hers, she went numb.

Mark sucked back a deep breath as he allowed his eyes to drag over his ex-girlfriend. Her dark hair had been blown out straight and hung nearly to her waist. Her blue eyes screamed for him to cross the chasm between them and hold her as tightly as he possibly could. He wondered if someone had invited her there, or if she had taken it upon herself to track him down. He was sure that she would be over him by now.

He needed to be focused on the show, on the fact that he had to head into the ring in a few minutes, but he couldn't stop moving in her direction. He had no idea what he would say when he reached her, but he couldn't pretend she didn't exist. Not anymore. Not when she was right in front of his face.

"So what have you," Jeff stopped when he realized that they were no longer alone. "Okay," he sighed, turning to look up at Mark and then back down on Winter. "Yeah, this is awkward."

"I should go," Winter finally managed to squeak out. She didn't want to. She wanted to run into his arm and hold on for the rest of her life. She wanted him to open his mouth and say that he had been wrong, that they belonged together. But something in her gut said he would just demand to know why the hell she was there, that he wouldn't be happy to see her in the least, and she wasn't about to stick around for that.

Jeff left the pair alone, and everyone else milling about seemed to be thinking along the same lines. Mark had been hard enough to deal with as of late, and they all seemed to sense that Winter had the potential to be a catalyst for an explosion.

_Tell her you're glad to see her, asshole. Tell her you've been dying to see her face for two months. Tell her you made a mistake. Say something. Anything. _Still, Mark's mouth wouldn't work in the fashion his brain was instructing. He had never dreamed that seeing her again would affect him so powerfully. Though they were standing about six feet apart, his skin tingled as though she were pressed against him again.

Winter looked at her feet and stuffed her hands into her back pockets, a sign Mark knew well. She was getting ready to gracefully bow out of the conversation, and he would lose any chance he had at saying anything at all. For weeks, he had been wishing for a second chance, another opportunity to explain himself further than he had the first time. And now, with it standing before him, he was lost.

"Stick around," he requested, reaching out to touch her arm. It was a bad move, and they both knew it instantly. The fire was nowhere close to burning out. Her eyes pooled with tears, and he felt his heart break at the sight. "I gotta get out there, but I want to talk to you."

He didn't wait for a response, just turned toward gorilla and slid his long, leather coat over his shoulders. Winter watched his back, wondering if the earth was going to stop spinning any time soon.

The ringing cell phone at her hip drew her attention away from the impending awkwardness. "Hello?"

"Hey," Bill's voice flooded her ear as Winter turned away from the backstage madness, walking back toward the barricade. "Where'd you go?"

With one last glance over her shoulder, she realized that Mark had already disappeared into the arena. "Um, I got a little lost," she replied, blinking back her tears as she started back toward the concourse. "I'm on my way back."

Mark had asked her to wait for him, but Winter knew that she could. She could sit on the floor, next to the wall, and wait for him to return. She could hope and wish that it would be the reunion that she had been dreaming of for weeks. But she couldn't watch him walk away. Not again.


	8. Tu Compania

**Nothing Compares**

**A/N: So I know I just posted another chapter this morning, but I'm not sure when I'm going to get another chance to post, and I'm hella excited about this chapter. So, I have to warn you: This chapter contains "adult" content. Enjoy!

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_"Are you sure you turned left at the tree farm?" Mark asked, pacing his front porch nervously, on hand running through his dark hair as his eyes searched the old dirt road for some sign of Winter._

_It had been nearly a month since their first date, and though he had been desparate to consummate the relationship that night, something had stopped him when they returned to the hotel. It was too soon. He didn't want to rush things with this one. They had heat, he was sure of that much. Ten years ago, that would have been enough. But now he wanted more, and he wanted to make sure that she did, too, before he went too far._

_"Jesus Christ!" Winter sighed in exasperation. "I know my right from my left!" she insisted. Searching for the landmarks he had described, she swallowed the nerves that had been plaguing her for the last three days._

_When Mark called to tell her that he was going to be home for a week to take care of some personal business, she had been excited. They'd barely been able to find three days together since that first date, and she was aching for something more. Even if he cut her off again, even if there was no sex, she would jump at the chance to spend an entire lazy Saturday with him._

_And then he had suggested she just pack a bag and stay with him for the weekend. There was more than enough room at his ranch, and he had a guest bedroom, if that made her more comfortable. It took every ounce of her self-control not to shout, "No, I wanna sleep in your bed! With you! Naked!" Instead, she just told him that it sounded great and that she would see him Friday night._

_If she could ever find the house. "I just passed a house with a pink cow in the yard," she said, her nose scrunching up at the offensive sculpture._

_Heaving a sigh of relief, he sank to the swing on the front porch and extended his legs to rest his feet on the railing. "You're about a half mile away," he answered. "Straight shot."_

_"Okay," Winter responded. She didn't even have time to hang up the phone before the house came into view._

_Secluded from modern life, Mark's ranch sprawled across five acres. The house itself covered at least five thousand square feet. She had always imagined him a simple man with humble taste, but his home defied that stereotype. Though rustic, and lacking in the trappings of contemporary architecture, it was extravagent in it's simplicity._

_But it wasn't the home that impressed her the most. It was the sight of her man, reclining in the porch swing, long neck bottle between his fingers as he slowly lowered his legs to the ground and stood to greet her. Walking to the edge of the porch, he leaned against one of the posts and crossed his right ankle over his left. "You need help with anything?"_

_Winter hoisted her overnight bag over her shoulder and shook her head, running her fingers through her hair. "I got it," she assured him, smoothing her hand over the long, white tulle skirt pooling around her calves. The white tank top that she wore rode up slightly when she walked, giving Mark an unobstructed view of her smooth abdomen. The sun shone off of her hair, creating a halo effect, and he was sure that his heart had stopped in that moment._

_When she reached the porch, he took her bag and bent to greet her with a soft kiss. "You're a sight for sore eyes, Sweetheart," he complimented._

_Wrapping her arms around his neck, she pulled his face to hers and gripped his bottom lip between her teeth. Emitting a small growl, she released the flesh and stepped back. "I missed you," she whispered._

_There was no way to hide the pink blush that crept from the back of his neck up into his cheeks when she said, or did, anything remotely sexy. And he was sure that it was on full display after that little gesture. "Come on in," he said, clearing his throat as he pushed the front door open._

_She stepped over the threshold and noted the natural decor of the house. It had high, vaulted ceilings and an open floor plan that felt like it went on forever. "This is beautiful," she complimented. "Really beautiful."_

_His pride welled up in his chest as he dropped her bag by the stairs and rested his hand on her shoulder. "Thank you," he replied, rubbing her soft skin beneath his calloused hand._

_Winter sighed happily and leaned back against his tee-shirt clad chest. If they did nothing else the entire weekend, she could be content with just knowing his broad body was so close, that his hand was on her. Of course, if he wanted to do more than just stand there, she wasn't going to deny him._

_A loud rumbling interrupted the silence of the moment and Winter dropped her face into her hands. "Oh god," she groaned, refusing to turn when she heard Mark's laughter behind her. "I didn't eat lunch today," she admitted, biting her lip and pushing her hair out of her face._

_"I was thinkin' we could run out and get somethin' later," Mark said, dropping his hand from her shoulder to wrap it around her waist, gently rubbing her growling tummy. "But we can go now if you want," he whispered into her ear as he rested his chin on her shoulder._

_Turning in his arms, she hid her face in his chest and inhaled the musky scent that was uniquely his. "Let's just stay here," she mumbled against him as she reached around to slip her hands into the back pockets of his jeans._

_"Fine by me," Mark admitted, embracing her tightly and lifting her feet from the floor. When she wrapped her legs around his waist, he rested his forehead against hers. "You wanna see the rest of the house?"_

_Raising an eyebrow, Winter shook her head and licked her lips. "Just one room," she gasped when he attached his lips to the side of her neck. She locked her ankles around his middle, barely hearing the faint 'thump' that her flip flops made when they fell to the floor. Burying her fingers in his dark hair, she leaned back slightly and prayed that he was as strong as appeared to be. She really wasn't in the mood to be dropped against the hardwood floor._

_Without words, he carried her toward the stairs, stopping when her stomach grumbled loudly once again. "Alright," he shook his head, lowering her feet to the floor. "Let's get you some food," he insisted, taking her hand and leading her back down the stairs._

_"It's fine, Mark," she protested, resisting him slightly. She could care less about the hunger in her stomach. It was the hunger lower that she wanted to take care of at the moment._

_But he wasn't listening. He had an entire weekend to show her how much he wanted her. And he intended to use every minute of it._

_---_

_After dinner, the couple returned to the house and settled into an evening of watching Smackdown in relative silence. Each lost in their own thoughts, they sat at opposite ends of the couch, Winter's feet in Mark's lap, as they each nursed a longneck beer bottle._

_Suddenly, Mark stood and stretched his arms out to his sides, popping his neck before turning back to her. "Be right back. You need anything while I'm up, Sweetheart?" Winter just shook her bottle to show him she was still okay. Turning his head to one side, he considered her. "You're bein' awful quiet," he said._

_Raising an eyebrow, she slowly turned her head toward him. "So are you," she shot back with a slight smirk._

_"True," Mark agreed. "But it's not out of the ordinary for me," he smiled cheekily when she tossed one of his throw pillows in his general direction. "Damn, you throw like a girl!" he laughed, the deep sound echoing behind him as he headed toward the bathroom._

_Winter sighed in frustration as she fell back against the couch. She had grown quiet, he was right. Seeing him on the television, dropping to the mat after his victory, rolling his eyes back in his head and sticking his tongue out, had driven her deep into her own thoughts. Filthy thoughts that she would be embarrassed to voice to her closest girlfriends, let alone the man sitting just a few feet away._

_Mark shook his head as he shut the door quietly behind him. It had been an all-around great night, as far as he was concerned. Winter had taken to his home as if she'd been there for years, and he was quickly growing accustomed to having her there. Though he told himself that, at twenty-eight, she was still just a kid, everything he had seen was telling him differently._

_When he explained that there was no food in his house because he was rarely home, Winter had insisted they go the grocery store. Even if it was only for the weekend, he needed some home-cooked meals. And when they returned home, she had asked him to put the groceries away while she sorted his dirty laundry from the road. She claimed that his old system of buying new socks and underwear just because the ones he already had were dirty was the dumbest thing she had ever heard._

_She may have sported all of the trappings of a punk rock prom queen, but Winter Kipley was a domestic goddess deep down. And Mark was finding that she provided a woman's touch to his home that he hadn't realized it was missing. For that alone, he wanted to make sure she stuck around for quite awhile. Well that, and the fact that he was pretty sure she wasn't wearing a bra._

_When he returned to the living room, Mark slowly lowered himself onto the floor in front of her. Winter immediately began run her thin fingers lazily through his hair. "What's on your mind, Sweetness?" he asked, his eyelids growing heavy at the easy rhythm of her nails against his scalp._

_"Just thinkin'," she answered softly, her eyes never leaving the television screen._

_"About?"_

_Oh, what the hell? Winter thought, stopping her hand on the back of his head. "Your tongue," she admitted honestly. Risking a glance in his direction, she saw the pink tint crawling up his neck and into his cheeks. "How 'bout you?" she asked, suddenly feeling empowered by his reaction._

_Taking a long swig of his beer, Mark barely turned his head and allowed her to catch a glimpse of the smirk on his lips. "How you're gonna look naked."_

_She was fully aware that she had been the one to lead the conversation in a sexual direction, he answer still suprised her. They'd had some pretty steamy phone sex on a couple of occasions, but knowing that the real thing was about to happen made her pulse race. Whether it was the alcohol, the adrenaline racing through her veins, or just an animalistic need to feel him pressed against her, Winter sat up on the couch and peeled her tank top over her head._

_When Mark turned, she had pushed her skirt over her hips, allowing it to fall in a lacy pool at her feet. She kicked it to the side and hooked her fingers inside the band of her blush-colored boy shorts. Shaking his head, Mark stood and reached out a hand, stopping her from stripping completely. "Leave 'em on," he instructed, grabbing her bottle from the end table. "You want another one?"_

_Winter nodded shyly and lowered herself to the couch, raising her knees to cover her bare chest. It had seemed like a good idea a few seconds earlier. But now, she felt exposed and strange. And how had he dropped a bomb like "I wanna see you naked" and then just walked out of the room? What kind of asshole pulled that shit?_

_Returning with another beer, Mark sat in the recliner next to the couch, his eyes dragging slowly over Winter's nearly-bare form. She squirmed under his scrutiny, wrapping her arms around her knees as though trying to envelope her body from his gaze. "Relax," he smiled easily._

_"Relax?" Winter huffed, rolling her eyes. "You get naked and fuckin' relax," she shot back._

_Setting his beer on the table, Mark stood and pulled his shirt over his head. He popped the button on his jeans and pushed them off before returning to his chair and crossing his right ankle over his left knee. With a shrug, he returned his hand to the bottle and tilted it to his lips. "I don't know what the big deal is," he said flippantly._

_Winter shook her head incredulously, refusing to expose herself any further. "It's not a big deal to you," she scoffed, moving one arm to gesture at his finely chiseled chest. "Your body's perfect."_

_Mark rolled his eyes. "And your's isn't?" he challenged. When she rolled her eyes again, he put his bottle down on the table rested his elbow on the arm of the chair. "Okay, so tell me what's wrong with it," he said._

_Winter merely lowered her eyes and stared at her knee cap, a tiny scar from a nasty fall in junior high staring back at her. "I wouldn't know where to start."_

_"Okay then," he said, uncrossing his legs and leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees. "Come here." She didn't move. "Winter, come here," he repeated._

_She did as she was told, standing slowly and continuing to cover herself from his eyes. When she was standing in front of him, he reached out and rested his warm hands against her arms. Pulling them back, he looked her over, a bright grin forming at the view. "Nothin' wrong with what I'm seein', Sweetness," he said in a low voice that made Winter tremble. Raising his eyes, he slid his hands from her arms to her stomach, smoothing his rough palms over her satiny midsection._

_When he moved his touch to her hips, Winter's breath hitched in her throat. When he spread his thighs and forcefully pulled her closer, she tilted her head back and let out a hiss. When she felt his breath through the thin fabric of her panties, she nearly lost her mind._

_It took every bit of discipline he could muster not to throw her over his shoulder and carry her to his bed. Slowly flicking his tongue over the soft mesh covering her most intimate parts, he breathed deeply, inhaling her feminine aroma as her abdomen danced beneath his attentive tongue. When she began to whimper, he stood and lifted her into his arms._

_Wordlessly, he stood her in front of the couch and pulled her panties down her thighs, smiling to himself when he found her completely bare below the belt. Looking up, he felt his heart jump into his throat when her iced stare met his. "Sit down, baby," he instructed. She did, without hesitation. Grasping both of her ankles, he rested them on his shoulders and leaned forward, his touch travelling up her calves, over her knees and across her thighs._

_Winter leaned back as he touched her, but bolted upright when his warm tongue made contact with her swollen nub. Resting her weight on one elbow, she reached down and pulled Mark's long locks away from his face, inebriated by the sight of his tongue gliding slowly over her. She'd been licked before. She'd been licked well. But she had never felt anything like the sensations he was sending through every part of her prone body._

_The sheer length of his tongue was impressive, but the skill with which he used it was beyond Winter's description. She thought he would never stop, and as she thrashed around on the couch, gasping for air and calling him name, she hoped that he didn't. She was so close. Close to him. Close to the edge. Close to a release. "Oh god!" she gasped, knowing that she was about to explode._

_But Mark was far from ready for her to be finished. Standing, he laughed when she growled at him, and then pushed his boxer shorts to the floor. He pulled her into his lap, and was sheathed inside her, before she could protest any further. There would be time for slow and methodical later, but now was the time for expressing everything that had been building between them for the last two months._

_The tears that formed in Winter's eyes were a mixture of intense joy and pain. As she began to rock her hips, she couldn't stop the torrent of emotions racing through her. Mark was holding her back, his lips alternating between her breasts as she groaned and begged him for more. More of the pleasure. More of his body. More of his heart. She wanted everything that he had to give her._

_"More," she managed to say as he gripped her hips and laid her back against the floor. The sudden shift in position barely registered in her mind as he stretched his lithe body over hers and crushed her mouth in a seering kiss, as though he were trying to brand her as his while he continued to move inside her._

_Burying his head in her neck, Mark felt as though his entire being was on fire. It wasn't just the insane sensation of being deep with her tight confines, or the sounds of her desparate pleading in his ear. He was overcome with the need to be just a little bit closer, to know just a little bit more. And it was that thought that brought him to his release, just moments after hers._

_"Damn," Winter sighed as he rolled to her side and pulled her onto his chest. "That's some tongue you got there."_

_Chuckling, he kissed the top of her head. "Ya know," he sighed, "I made my bed this morning."_

_Winter ran nimble fingers over his body, savoring the hard planes of his pectoral muscles. When her thumb grazed his nipple, she smiled at the deep breath that hissed from the back of his throat. "Is that unusual for you?"_

_He nodded and trailed his hands down her back. "I was tryin' to impress you."_

_Winter rolled onto her side and pressed her lips against his neck. "Well, then, I'd say we just preserved all your hard work." When he laughed once again, she captured his lips, taking a long moment to suck the bottom one between hers, running her tongue over it slowly. When she released him, she began to giggle._

_"What are you laughin' at?"_

_Winter rested her head on the soft rug beneath her. "Tasha owes me twenty bucks?" He rolled his head to face her and raised an eyebrow. "She bet me that you would say "Rest in Peace" after you came."_

_Mark groaned and raised his hand to the back of her head, pulling her back on top of him. When she looked up, resting her chin on his chest, he tilted his head back and let out a long sigh. "That's fucked up. You know that, right?" When she giggled again, he kissed the top of her head. "I don't know why the hell you're here, Sweetness," he said, returning his eyes to her. "But I'm glad you are."_

_"So does this mean you're not going to pretend we're just friends anymore?" she asked hopefully._

_Shaking his head, he rolled out from under her and stood slowly to his feet. Lifting Winter into his arms, he kissed her soft lips and pulled back with a smile. "Baby, we've never been just friends," he assured her._

_Though she'd always suspected it, hearing him say the words made her tummy flutter. Resting her head against his neck as he climbed the stairs toward his bedroom, she let a giggle escape her lips. "I'm glad you finally realized that," she teased._

_"Oh yeah?" Mark asked, moving toward the large platform bed in the center of his room. "And you were so quick, Little Miss?"_

_Winter rolled her blue eyes and propped herself up on her elbows, trying her best to stare him down. In the ring, nobody could dream of succeeding in such a feat, but they weren't in the squared circle. "Dude, I knew I wanted you from the minute I saw you."_

_With his hands on his hips, he narrowed his eyes and stuck his tongue out, watching her eyes twinkle at the sight. "I'm wantin' you again right now," he shot back._

_"I'm not goin' anywhere," Winter promised. "You want me? Take me."_


	9. Hate Me

**Nothing Compares**

**A/N: You guys never cease to amaze me . . . Your reviews have given me plenty of smiles in the last couple of days, when smiles weren't really in abundance otherwise. To Kim, thank you for asking: The apartment is okay. I'm still carpetless, but they have to wait for the floor to dry out completely before they can lay the new stuff down. It's liveable, though. I have a place to live in the Detroit winter, so I really can't complain. **

**Also, to Stacey: I like it pretty much any way you can imagine it. :)

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**

"Here I go again on my own. Goin' down the only road I've ever known. Like a drifter I was born to walk alone," Winter sang loudly with her IPod as she drained yet another bottle of Jack and wandered barefoot through her apartment.

Since seeing Mark at the house show two days earlier, she felt as though the world had stopped tilting on it's axis, and she convinced herself that moving one foot in front of the other, no matter how aimlessly, was the only way to put everything in motion again.

With a sigh, she continued mumbling along with the music as she dropped the bottle against the floor, smiling when she heard it shatter. Another puddle of glass. Maybe she would have the desire to clean it up someday. Someday when she cared more about the appearance of her home and less about the raging pain her stomach.

She was trying, really trying, to get over him. She thought that was what she was supposed to be doing. She thought that was how a girl got over a broken heart. She thought she was supposed to be getting all dressed up, going shopping with her friends, and dating random guys until another one sent her world spinning a new direction.

But seeing him, hearing him ask her to stay, had turned everything on its ear. It had taken two months to convince herself that she could forget, at least for a few minutes, just how much she needed him. In a split second, the facade crumbled. Greeted with the intensity of his stare, she could no longer hide from the truth. He was the only man she would ever love with every ounce of her being.

Stepping over a pile of dirty laundry, she dove onto the bed and buried her face in the mattress. The reasons behind his leaving no longer mattered to Winter. All that mattered was that it was over. Things hadn't gone the way she had planned for them to go. She couldn't have the one thing she really wanted.

At first, she thought that repeating it, continuously telling herself that it was over, would help her come to some degree of acceptance with the fact. But two months after the fact, she was no closer to accepting it than she had been the day he left. She was aware that her tantrums, that her drinking binges, weren't going to change anything. But she wasn't trying to change it. She just wanted to numb it for little while longer.

A faint ringing in the distance drew her head up. Feeling around under the pillows, Winter grew frustrated when she had to roll off of the mattress to find the phone. She threw clothes, used tissues, and a stack of bills out of the way. "Hello?" she answered lazily, flopping back onto the bed with a grunt.

"Where the hell are you?" Tasha asked, her voice tinged with worry.

Winter rolled her eyes and stared at the ceiling. "I don't wanna hear it, Tasha," she growled.

With a huff, Tasha decided against berating her friend any further. If she had learned anything since Winter's break up with Mark, telling her what to do was not going to help anything. "Darlene's pissed," she warned. "That's all I'm gonna say about it, but just know you're gonna hear it when you get back." After a brief groan from her friend, Tasha went on. "So Jason got a call from Danny," she said. When Winter didn't respond, her friend sighed. "And he wants to book the band for a pretty decent wad of cash."

Running her hands over her face, Winter shook her head and clenched her eyes tightly. Danny's Biker Bar was the last place in the world she wanted to be. Painted wall to wall in memories of Mark, there was no way she could step foot into that place without thinking of their first meeting. She couldn't take to that stage without remembering the first time she had ever played with the band, and how proud he had looked from his seat at the bar.

"You're kidding, right?" Winter asked.

But Tasha wasn't joking. "He's willing to pay twice what he paid before," she said. "And since you're dangerously close to losing this job, I suggest you think about it."

Though she wanted to protest, Winter couldn't deny that Tasha was right. She was missing too much work, and though she really didn't care about much of anything lately, she knew that those bills on her dresser weren't going to pay themselves.

"I'll think about it," she promised as another call began to ring in. Checking the ID, her heart sank to her toes. "Tash? Mark's on the other line."

Tasha seemed taken aback for a moment. "Um," she stammered, "are you gonna answer it."

Winter stared at her reflection in the mirror, struggling to recognize the eyes staring back at her. "I can't move," she said honestly. Her entire body felt numb.

"Think he'll leave a message?" her friend asked.

"I honestly don't know," Winter answered, casting a glance to her toes, wiggling them as if to test whether or not she was actually paralyzed. "I'm gonna go," she whispered, disconnecting the call without waiting for Tasha to respond.

When the short series of beeps signified a voicemail, her fingers trembled, barely able to enter her password before striking the 'speakerphone' button. Laying back against the soft sheets on her bed, she rested the phone beside her face and listened to his deep, rumbling message.

"Hey, it's me. . . So I get why you didn't stick around the other night. . . I was looking forward to talking to you." There was a considerable pause as Winter found herself craving more of his masculine timber. "Look, this is totally outta line, and I shouldn't even be. . . I know I shouldn't be . . . Fuck, I don't know what I'm doin' anymore." He stopped again, and she knew in an instant what he was doing. She heard the sniffle and the throat-clear that thinly veiled his building emotions. "All I know is that we need to talk. . . I'll be home this weekend. . . I lov," he started to say, but time had run out and the message was cut short.

With a frustrated scream, Winter threw her phone off of the bed and covered her face with her hands. Why now? After two months, after she had left him messages and pleaded with him to give her an explanation? Why was he calling her now? Had seeing her changed his mind? Did he want her back? Who the hell did he think he was, toying with her emotions like that? What fucking right did he have to string her along?

Squirming her way to the bottom of the bed, she leaned over the edge. With the phone in one hand, she gripped her whiskey bottle in the other and wandered back down the hall. She had to move on. As soon as she heard his voice one more time.


	10. Feelin' Way Too Damn Good

**Nothing Compares**

**A/N: First of all, I need to credit Vera Roberts for one of the lines in this story. It's pretty much stolen right out of her story, Let Love Go, and is used here with her permission. Alright, y'all, this is where things start to pick up in our little fairy tale. We're ramping toward the end - only 5 more chapters to go. I hope you all continue to Enjoy!

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**

_Winter rocked slowly in the porch swing, her eyes fully focused on the sweating glass of sweet tea resting against her thigh. Mark had called twenty minutes ago to let her know that he was almost home, and she had been listening for the tell-tale growl from the diesel engine of his over-sized pick up truck ever since. There was something about the anticipation that filled her chest every time she knew she was going to see him again. Even after a year of dating him, she still found herself excited over the thought of seeing him step out of that truck and open his arms to her._

_Though she had yet to fully move into his house, she spent more time wandering it's spacious halls than she did at her own apartment. Most of her clothes and personal items were there, and it was feeling more and more like home with each passing day. Something told her that she would be moving in soon enough._

_By the time the truck eased to a stop in front of the house, Winter was standing at the bottom of the porch steps, an expectant smile on her face. Just a second more and she would be in his warm embrace once again. It took everything in her not to jump up and down and clap her hands together. Mark was home and she was ready to show him just how much she had missed him._

_Pushing the door of the truck open, Mark swung his legs slowly toward the hard ground and cringed as he stood to his full six feet and ten inches. Running his hand over his face, he slammed the door of the vehicle and limped a few steps to the back door. Opening the extended cab, he struggled to pull two large suitcases from the truck._

_"What the fuck happened to you?" Winter asked, rushing toward him, concern etched deep into her forehead. "Mark, what happened?" she repeated when he refused to answer._

_He slammed yet another door and hissed in pain when he tried to pivot toward her. "I'm fine," he lied, wrapping his free arm around her in a half-hearted hug._

_Rolling her eyes, Winter stole the suitcase handles from him and began rolling them toward the front porch. Mark protested, but couldn't help laughing when she began to wrestle the first piece of luggage up the steps. "Jesus," she called out, finally managing to get it onto the porch. "I know I did not pack this much shit for you!"_

_When she turned to gage his reaction, Mark was limping toward her, his beefy hand resting gingerly on his left thigh. "I bought some stuff," he admitted, his eyes closing in pain as he hoisted his body up the two steps to the front door._

_Once they were inside, Winter placed his luggage by the stairs and pointed to his recliner. "Sit," she ordered._

_"Come here," he countered._

_But Winter shook her head. "Sit your big ass down. I'll get you a beer." She had no idea what had happened to him, but it was obvious that he was not fine. When he crossed his arms over his chest, she rolled her eyes. "Mark, I know you wanna be the tough guy or whatever, but you need to sit your ass down and get off that leg," she mimicked his stance, raising her pierced, left eyebrow. "I'm not impressed."_

_With a cocky girn, he moved his hands to his hips, and leaned as casually as possible against the back of the couch. "I'm not tryin' to impress you," he corrected, pushing away from the furniture to limp toward her. "I'll admit I'm hurtin'," he added, reaching out to his girlfriend and crushing her against his chest. "But I wanna say 'hi' to my girl before I crash," he added._

_Blushing slightly at her presumption, Winter wrapped her arms as far around his back as she could and squeezed him tightly. "I'm glad you're home," she mumbled._

_Mark pulled back and held her smooth cheeks in his hands. Running his thumb over her bottom lip. "I sure missed you, Sweetness," he added, dipping his head to rest his forehead against hers. "Missed you real bad last night," he winked._

_Tilting her face, Winter wove her arms around his neck and pressed her lips to his. The ranch was secluded, quiet, and undisturbed. But the pounding in her chest as he slid his hands up her back and then down below her rear was defeaning in her ears. When he lifted her into his arms, she wrapped her legs around his waist, continuing to feast on his mouth, gliding her tongue over his. His kisses were worth having him home._

_Until he stumbled and began to fall backward. Fearing a fall, Winter unclasped her ankles and jumped to the floor in time to see him grip the arm of the couch for support. "Alright," she cleared her throat and strengthened her resolve. "You're sittin' your ass in that chair, Mister Tough Guy," she instructed. Resting her hand on her hip and pointing to the furniture, she dared him to challenge her. "Now!"_

_This time, he didn't argue. "Can you bring my suitcase over here?" he asked through clenched teeth as he dropped his heavy frame into the large, leather chair._

_Winter moved toward the luggage and asked which one he wanted. When he gestured to the smaller of the two, she wheeled it toward him. Stopping it in front of him, she ran her fingers through her hair. "Are you hungry?" Mark shook his head. "Heating pad or ice pack?"_

_"Heat," he answered shortly, leaning forward in the chair to tug at the zipper of his bag._

_Quickly gathering the heating pad from his bedroom closet, Winter stopped in the master bedroom to throw her hair into a ponytail, and then skpped back down the stairs. She grabbed one of the beer bottles that she had left chilling in the freezer a few hours earlier, and headed back into the living room._

_His eyes fixated on her, following her on her path between the kitchen and his side. He was a lucky son of a bitch, and he knew it. There was no reason that this woman should be waiting for him to arrive home, worrying about him, and happily taking care of him. It almost made him feel guilty._

_Winter put the beer in his hand and set about plugging the heating pad into the wall behind the chair. "This would work a lot better if you could take your pants off," she suggested. He just raised an eyebrow, but Winter tossed him a pair of shorts that she had brought from his room._

_Mark laughed as he stood from the chair and changed into the shorts. When he sat back down, Winter was at his side, draping the warm pad over his thigh. He grabbed her hand and raised it to his lips, pressing a soft kiss to her wrist before releasing her and reaching for his bag again. "I bought you somethin'," he said._

_She watched as he withdrew a couple of small bags and then told her to close her eyes. "I'm not three, Mark," she reminded him, but did as she was told anyway. She could hear him rustling through his bag. When he told her that she could open her eyes, she gasped._

_He was holding a soft motorcycle jacket made of black and red leather, the cuff branded with the Harley emblem. Though any riding gear was more his style than hers, Winter couldn't deny that it was beautiful. And it complimented his perfectly. "You like it?" he asked, his eyes bright and hopeful._

_Walking toward him, Winter perched herself on his good knee and ran her fingers over the garment. "So we're that couple now, huh?" she asked. He raised an eyebrow. "The kind who wear matching jackets when we go riding?"_

_"Mine doesn't look like this," he insisted. "Not exactly." Rolling his eyes, he turned his face to hers. "What's wrong with being that couple?"_

_Winter pecked his lips softly and shook her head. "Not a damn thing," she answered, casting her glance to two small bags on the table at his side. "What's in those?" she asked. "Are they for me, too?"_

_Tightening his grip around her waist, Mark rubbed the exposed skin between Winter's shorts and tank top. "They're for both of us, actually," he blushed a bright pink when she moved to pick one up. "Read the card," he instructed, handing her a pink envelope._

_As she pulled the small card from it's holder, she reached over to distractedly run her hand over his thigh. "Still hurtin'?" she mumbled as she read the anniversary wishes from some of Mark's female co-workers._

_Mark grunted and shifted his weight beneath her. "It's goin' to for awhile. I think I strained the muscle pretty good," he admitted. "Nothin' too serious. Just need some time to heal up." He was running his fingers under the soft fabric of her shirt, relishing the smooth skin that he had longed to touch for the last three weeks._

_With a soft moan, Winter looked into the Victoria's Secret bag that went with the card. Lifting the lace and pearl v-string from the bag on her finger, she wiggled her eyebrows. "Guess it'll be awhile before we can play with this then, huh?" Grabbing the other bag, she produced a powder blue bra and panty set. "Too bad, cause I'll betcha I'ma look cute in this one."_

_"Darlin, I strained a muscle in my leg," he reminded. "Not my dick." Raising a skeptical eyebrow, Mark chuckled and relaxed against the back of his chair, allowing his eyes to drift lazily. "That's not you," he said, leaning back and pulling her with him as the chair slipped into a reclined position._

_Faking a pout, Winter held the little panties up and considered them. They weren't her. At all. But it was a nice gesture. Before she could say as much, though, Mark had taken the undergarments from her hands and lazily lobbed them to the floor. "What was that for?" Winter asked, her voice tinted with amusement. "I was going to try those on for you."_

_Mark just shrugged. "They're just gonna end up there anyway," he reminded his girlfriend as sleep began to find him. "Why bother tryin' 'em on?"_

_Playfully smacking his arm, Winter moved out of the chair and looked him over. "You need to sleep," she whispered, smoothing his hair back and kissing his forehead. He had already fallen into a peaceful sleep by the time she covered his legs with a woven blanket and started for the laundry room._

_Her life had seemed pretty great just one short year ago, but now? Now it was better than she could have ever comprehended. Nothing had ever managed to make her happier than she was in that very moment._

_---_

_"I know, Tasha, but Mark just got home." Winter moved from the oven to the island behind her, carefully balancing the telephone between her cheek and her shoulder. "He's still sleeping, his leg's all fucked up, and I'm just taking dinner out of the oven," she rattled off all of the reasons she wouldn't be available for the evening._

_"Win, you promised," Tasha said. "Like a month ago. You can't just back out."_

_But Winter wasn't about to sacrifice a rare weekend with her boyfriend for a stupid concert. "Look, things change sometimes. I'm sorry," she said forcefully. "Just have Joy fill in for me. She's good."_

_Tasha huffed. "She sounds like Cher on the low notes. And her face does that weird thing."_

_At the thought of her drummer's girlfriend, face contorted in some attempt to hit a note that just wasn't in her range, Winter couldn't help laughing. "She'll be fine. It's not like it's a showcase or anything."_

_"Try to be there, okay?" Tasha asked before hanging up the phone._

_Winter just shook her head and tossed the phone on the counter, searching the drawers for a spatula. Triumphantly, she held the plastic object in the air. "A ha!" she exclaimed, turning back to the casserole and jumping. "Jesus!"_

_Mark smirked and sank to the bar stool on the opposite side of the island, resting his elbows on the counter as he wiped sleep from the corners of his eyes. "Smells good," he complimented, reaching for the dish with his fingers._

_She rapped his knuckles with the spatula and pointed it at him with mock firmness. "You can't wait five minutes?"_

_But he just shook his head and dipped another finger into the dish. "Nope," he said, feigning innocence as he placed the bite on his tongue. "Damn," he nodded. "That's good, baby." She just smiled and continued flitting around the kitchen, putting the finishing touches on her meal. "Who was on the phone?" he asked casually, standing and making his way slowly toward the refrigerator._

_"Tasha," Winter answered distractedly, checking the vegetables steaming on the stove top. "There's a show tonight at the Roundabout, but I told her I couldn't make it," she went on, grabbing the salt and pepper to season the dish._

_Mark twisted the cap on his water bottle and mosied back to his stool. "Why can't you go?" he asked with a grunt. She just smiled knowingly at him. "I can go with you, ya know? I'm not an invalid."_

_"You're barely walkin' around the kitchen, Mark. It's fine. I don't need to go," she assured him. "They're gonna have Josh's girlfriend fill in for me."_

_But something about the way she dismissed the show bothered Mark. He loved having her there to take care of him. He loved falling asleep, knowing she would be there when he woke up. He loved the way she did his laundry, cooked for him, and packed his suitcases before his trips without complaining. He loved her. But something was bothering him._

_"So it was a last minute thing, then?" he asked._

_Winter shook her head and rubbed her nose with the outside of her forearm. "It was scheduled awhile ago, before I knew you were coming home. But they know," she assured him, "that my priorities shift when you're home."_

_"Why?"_

_"Why?" Winter repeated with a scoff. "Because I don't get to see you that often. And when I do, I don't wanna fuck around with anything else," she answered, pulling the vegetables from the stove top. "Dinner's done," she told him, grabbing a couple of plates from the cabinet._

_"You need to go to that show tonight," Mark told her, standing to help her set the table._

_Winter sighed. She didn't want to go to the show. She didn't want to leave the house. Not when he was only going to be there for a few days. Even when he was around for a week, it wasn't enough time. It was bad enough that she had to go to work. But she wasn't about to leave him for superfluous activities that had nothing to do with being naked in his bed._

_"It's not a big deal," she assured him. "It's an opening act for some regional band. It's not like we're even featured."_

_When she told him that a few of her friends had a band, and that she had agreed to sit in with them on a few shows, he had been thrilled. After hearing her sing on their first date, Mark was more-than-convinced that she had the talent to become, at the very least, a self-supporting musician. Maybe she wouldn't be the next Amy Lee, but she could be successful. If only she had some drive._

_"It IS a big deal," he insisted, leaning against the kitchen table and crossing his arms over his chest. "You made a commitment, Winter. You can't just back out of it." When she rolled her eyes, he felt his irritation beginning to rise. "You've got three other people counting on you," he added to the list of reasons she had to go. "And you never know who could be there! It could be a break that you weren't expecting, and you're sittin' on your ass at home."_

_On more than one occasion, she had found herself on the other side of one of his "scoldings." Mark was a determined man, driven by a work ethic that was unmatched in his business. He was motivated by the need to do things solely because they were the right things to do. Even when his company seemed to be going down the toilet, losing ratings battles with WCW on a weekly basis, he refused to jump ship because he had promised that he wouldn't. He wasn't known as the moral conscience of the industry by accident._

_But while Winter appreciated that aspect of his personality, she wished that he would try to see things from hers once in awhile. "Is it so bad that I wanna spend some time with you?"_

_"I said I'd go with you!" Mark reminded, his arm swinging to his side in frustration. "Why are you makin' excuses?"_

_"Because I'd rather be with you! Alone with you! If you were here all the time, Mark, I would have no problem going to that bar tonight. But here's the thing," she said, feeling the heat rise in her cheeks as she slammed her potholders on the kitchen counter. "I share you with the rest of the world most of the time. When you're here, when I can finally have you to myself? Yeah, I wanna shut everyone else out and just be with you!"_

_He studied her face for a moment and then chuckled. "That doesn't even make sense," he fired back. "You know that this is my life - you've known that from the beginning, for the last year. I don't want you to rearrange your life around my schedule. You can't do that," he insisted._

_"Why not?" Winter asked, crossing her arms over her chest. "Because you're not willing to do it for me?" He began to speak, but Winter held up a finger to 'shush' him. "I know what your life is like, Mark. I've known since the day I met you that our relationship wasn't going to be normal. I knew that, and I'm okay with it." Crossing her arms over her chest, she levelled him with a stern gaze. "Are you?"_

_Swallowing hard, Mark thought about what his girlfriend had just said. Was she right? Was he unwilling to sacrifice his dreams for her? Why the hell should he have to? He had a great job and he loved it. How could she expect him to just give it up? "Winter, this is asinine," he huffed, sinking to his seat at the table. "You don't wanna go to your show tonight? You wanna leave your friends hangin'? Don't go. I'm not gonna be able to change your mind anyway," he growled._

_Dropping his plate in front of him, Winter moved to grab his water bottle and slam it down beside him. "You eat. I'm not hungry," she grumbled, leaving the room without a look back. Grabbing her keys from the entry table, she stormed from the house. She loved him more than anything, but he was annoying the hell out of her. And at the moment, all she wanted to do was run as far away as she could._


	11. The Fragile

**Nothing Compares**

**A/N: Once again, I'm humbled and honored by your amazing response to this story. For those of you who have been eagerly anticipating Mark and Winter's first meeting, post-break up, this is it. For those of you waiting for answers. . . you might have to wait a little bit longer. Cause I'm cruel like that. Enjoy!

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**

The pounding on her front door stirred Winter from a restless sleep. Stumbling out of her bed, she grabbed a tee shirt from bedroom floor and carefully pulled it over her head as she headed into the hallways. Feeling along the wall, she squinted against the light pouring in her front windows. When had the sun come up?

Gingerly holding her head, Winter pulled the door open and grimaced as the warm air smacked her in the face. She could barely see him through her clenched eyes, but his smell was undeniable. Stepping away from the blinding rays of light, Winter motioned for him to enter and shut the door behind him.

"What the hell did you do to yourself?" Mark asked, pushing the door shut. When it clanged against the frame, Winter jumped and then sank to the couch, covering her face with a pillow. "Are you sick?"

Nodding, Winter buried her face further into the pillow and fell onto her side. "I think I'm gonna throw up," she groaned.

Without a second thought, Mark lifted his ex-girlfriend into his arms and carried her to the bathroom down the hall. Flipping the light on, he laid her on the floor and tossed his jacket into the hallway. With one hand, he gathered her hair away from her face as the other hand reached for a washcloth on the sink at his side.

"What's goin' on?" a strange voice asked from the doorway.

Turning, Mark glared at the young man standing naked before him. "Who the fuck are you?" he asked angrily.

For a brief moment, it seemed as though the guy didn't know the answer to the question. "Dewayne," he said, shaking his head as he studied the man kneeling on the floor. "Hey, aren't you the Undertaker, man?"

"Right now," Mark growled as Winter began to vomit, "I'm the son of a bitch that's gonna kick your ass if you don't get outta this house."

Holding up his hands, Dewayned looked at the shaking shoulders of the woman with whom he had spent most of the night. "Dude, Winnie invited me," he protested.

Though his first reaction when he had seen her was worry, Mark was livid at the thought of her sharing her bed with someone else. Especially with a burn out who couldn't remember his own name. "Get the fuck out," he repeated, his voice dangerously low as he struggled to keep himself in check.

Raising her head, Winter looked at her companion with heavy, blood shot eyes. "Just go," she whispered, turning her head back to the toilet. "He'll kill you," she added.

Without being told again, Dewayne was out of sight and Winter was resting her head against the cool porcelain of the bowl. "What are you?" she started to ask, but he pressed the cool cloth against her forehead and ran his fingers through her hair.

"Shh," Mark whispered. "We'll talk when you're sober," he promised, lifting her into his arms and carrying her to the bedroom. Laying her against the bare mattress, he watched as she passed into a deep sleep.

The stench in the house alone was enough to activate his gag reflex. He stepped over puddles of glass and sticky spots of dried liquor as he started down the hallway and back into the living room. The woman who had managed to keep his home, and hers, in immaculate shape while they were together, had clearly changed in the months following their split.

The moment he entered the kitchen, Mark found himself overcome with emotion. Dishes were piled in the sink, and along the counter. Empty pizza boxes and take out containers were stacked on the table and the floor. Bottles of liquor were strewn about the room, cracked, broken, or shattered. Lifting a pan from the stove, he found molded eggs stuck to the cast iron skillet.

_What the fuck have you done?_ he asked himself, running his hands through his hair as he moved back into the living room and fell back against the couch. His eyes fell on the television, only to find his own face staring back at him. The main menu of his Tombstone dvd was flashing, though the volume was on mute. The floor around the entertainment center was littered with various pay-per-view tapes in which he had main evented, or played a major role.

The pictures documenting their relationship that had once lined the mantle had been smashed against the stone hearth. Each step that he took through the house led him a little further into the anguish that he had caused. And practically finding her in bed with someone else was the last straw. He wanted to be angry with her, but coupled with the rest of the house, he couldn't. He couldn't feel anything but guilty. _You got nobody to blame but yourself, man._

---

When she awoke, Winter groaned and rolled to her side, vaguely aware that someone was watching her. _What was his name again? _The guy she'd brought home after the show at Danny's? _Dave? Shane? _What the fuck was it?

Rolling over, she forced her eyes open and nearly jumped out of her skin. "What the fuck?" she stammered, clutching her pillow to her chest when she found Mark sitting next to her. He was flipping through channels on her small television, resting at her side as though he'd never left. "What are you doing here?"

Cutting the power on the television, Mark tossed the remote on the floor. "How you feelin'?" he asked.

Dragging her fingers through her hair, Winter blinked her eyes and tried to remember letting him into the house in the first place. She had been drunk, she knew that much. And clearly, he had seen her that way. But she couldn't recall any conversation, and she surely didn't remember asking him to stay.

She licked her lips and cast her eyes to his face again, turning away as quickly as she had looked. It was too much. "Where's. . ." she tried to ask, still grasping for the name that alluded her.

"Dewayne?" Mark asked, raising an eyebrow. When Winter shrugged, he shook his head and stood from the bed. "You asked him to leave when I got here," he reminded, walking to the windows and pulling the drapes back. She cringed against the light as Mark walked around the foot of the bed and rested his hands on his hips. "We need to talk."

Averting her gaze once more, Winter focused on her feet and willed him away. She didn't want him to see the way she was crumbling, the way she couldn't make it without him. He needed to think that she was stronger. She needed to believe it. "There's nothing left to say," she informed him, pulling her knees to her chest and resting her throbbing forehead against them.

With a sarcastic chuckle, Mark shook his head, crossing his arms over his chest. "Oh, I think there's plenty," he started, taking a piece of paper from the dresser behind her. "Let's start with how you're about to lose your apartment? Or about the fact that this place is about to fall apart? Or the fact that you can't even remember the name of the guy stumbling out of your bedroom," he ranted.

Without warning, Winter snapped. Looking straight into his eyes, she shook her head. "Unbelievable. Self-righteous bastard," she spat. Mark didn't flinch. And suddenly, the sight of him made her want to run for the bathroom again. "You left me," she reminded. "You turned around and you walked away from me. You have no right to come into my house and tell me how to live my life!"

Forgetting why he had come in the first place, Mark felt his defenses going up. "Just because we're not together anymore, that doesn't mean that I want to see your life fall apart. It doesn't mean I don't care. That I don't still. . ."

Before the words could come out of his mouth, she jumped to her feet on the mattress and held out a finger. "Don't you even fucking **think **what you're about to say, Mark! Who the hell do you think you are? Why the fuck are you here?"

When they were together, they fought. But Winter usually listened to him rant, tried to defend herself, and then they would stare at each other until they forgot why they were fighting. He had never, in the nearly two years that he had known her, seen her lash out. "I wanted to explain," he started.

But Winter interrupeted once again. "Explain? You came here to explain to me why we're not together anymore?" With a huff, she threw her arms into the air and shook her head. "So, basically, you came here to make yourself feel better? Because you felt bad last time, so you thought you would just come in and clear your conscience before you ride off into the sunset again?

"If that's why you came, then you wasted your time," she said, furiously wiping her face as the anger began to bleed into crippling anguish. "I don't wanna hear explanations. I don't fucking care why you left. All I know is that every day I wake up and you're not here? That's another day that I have to force myself to get out of bed, to put a real effort into actually leaving this house. My life without you is a motherfucking joke. That's all I know."

When she crumpled into a pile on the bed, he fought to control his own tears. He still believed that he had made the right decision for both of them, that she deserved more than he could give her. He still believed that they would get over this pain and move on. But seeing her fall apart in front of his eyes was harder than he could have ever imagined it would be. And standing his ground, not being able to go to her, to hold her while she cried, was nearly killing him.

"It hurts," he finally said, his voice low, cracking but straining for control. He stared at his feet, refusing to meet her eye as he bore his soul. "Worse than all my injuries. Just this constant, nagging pain in my chest. It's just. . . . it doesn't end." Sniffling loudly, he moved fingers over his eyes and then crossed his arms once more. "I worry. . . a lot. . . about you. . . about me"

While she regained her composure, Mark continued focusing his gaze on the plush carpeting beneath his feet. Neither knew how to proceed, what to say next, as they struggled with the agonizing tension threatening to suffocate them both.

Raising her tear-stained eyes, Winter allowed herself to look at him for the first time. Her icy blue orbs took in the sight of his slumped shoulders and his bent head. It was obvious that he wasn't interested in reconciling, and for the first time, she felt it. The sinking knowledge that it was really over.

"Can you just leave now please?" she asked, her voice small and child-like.

Though he understood the request, he didn't want to leave her in her present state. But she was right. He had walked away. He had no right to be there, to try to save her. "Alright," he conceded.

Without another word, he left her bedroom, tears streaking his own cheeks as he exited the house for the last time.


	12. Lucky

**Nothing Compares**

**A/N: Okay, so normally I'm not a big fan of the double update - I like to give people some time to think over what they've read and let it settle before I throw something else at ya. But some of you seem to be a little, um, how should I say this? Pissed off? Mark's not exactly the shining hero at the moment, so I thought I would give you a little shiney happiness to make it all better. At the rate I'm going, I'm pretty sure this story will be done by the end of the week. I'm not sure if that's good or not, seeing as I've grown very attached to this couple. But that's for later - for now: Enjoy!

* * *

**

_By the time Mark made it to the Roundabout, the band had already started their set. When he had gone to her house to apologize, Winter was gone, and he had to assume that she had decided to play with the band after all. And he was right._

_  
Pacing in the full-length of the stage, she appeared to be the antithesis of everything he had ever believed he would want in a woman. She sported a short, flowing dress, made of magenta taffeta and black tulle. Her favorite black and white striped tights disappeared into heavy combat boots. Why she wore purple fairy wings over her shoulders, he had no idea, but he couldn't deny that they somehow completed her quirky look._

_While she sang a song called "Hate Me," Mark had a hard time believing anyone actually could. The way her dark hair fell away from the confines of the pink bow she had tied around it made looking away impossible. The passion in her blue eyes as she scanned her audience, completely immersed in the words she was projecting, caused a lump in his throat._

_Staggering to the bar on his bad leg, he slumped onto the stool and motioned for the bartender to bring him a Jack on the rocks. By the time he had a drink in his hand, the song had ended and Winter was bringing a stool to the center of the stage, her chest heaving as the crowd erupted._

_Placing the microphone into the stand, she licked her glossy lips, smiling as a few guys in the crowd shouted what they wanted to do to her. They could offer all they wanted - there was only one man that she would allow that priveledge, and he was sitting at the bar, pretending that he wasn't in agonizing pain, both physically and emotionally._

_Scanning the crowd, Winter caught a glimpse of Mark, but turned back to the guys near the front of the stage. Though her motivation for performing was less about his words, and more about the fear of going crazy if she stayed home, she couldn't deny that she was glad to see him there. Especially with the next song on the set list._

_Winter hoisted herself onto a stool that was slightly tall for her diminutive frame, her legs swinging as she fought to catch her breath. She'd performed several raucous numbers already, leaving her throat scratched and gravelly. After a gulp of the water at her side, she returned her mouth to the microphone and spoke softly._

_"We're gonna slow things down just a little bit," she informed the crowd, who groaned slightly. "Oh, don't worry - it's just for a minute," she winked, a small grin of amusement tweaking her lips. "This is one of my favorites, to I hope you guys enjoy it."_

_As the band began the haunting strains of a song he didn't recognize, Mark leaned his elbow against the bar and studied his girlfriend's face. Her eyes were closed, both small hands gripping the microphone as she waited for her cue. When she sang, her voice was strong, yet soft, in its seduction. _

_"It was a Monday when my lover told me never pay the Reaper with love only." Her voice caressed each note carefully, lovingly. "What could I say to you except I love you? And I'd give my life for yours." Tilting back slightly, she increaded the volume on the repetitive chorus. "I know we are, we are the lucky ones."_

_Though he'd had very little to drink, and was still somewhat annoyed with the argument they'd had early, Mark found himself feeling woozy by the expression in her steely blue eyes when she met his stare and sang the second verse only to him. _

_"Remember the time we made love in the roses? And you took my picture in all sorts of poses? How could I ever get over you when I'd give my life for yours?"_

_Even as she continued to sing, Mark thought about the force of the words she had just projected. 'I'd give my life for yours.' Hadn't that been what she was telling him earlier? Wasn't that exactly why they were fighting? She would gladly sacrifice everything that was available to her for the chance to spend a lifetime with him. She had put all of her dreams on hold for him. And he seemed to be the only one who was bothered by that._

_Before the band had finished the final strains of the song, Winter was off of the stage and moving toward her beloved. "You came," she greeted, thanking him for the drink he handed her with a nod of her head. "How's your leg?"_

_Mark shrugged and reached out, placing his hand on her hips and pulling her between his knees. "You were right," he whispered in her ear._

_The admission shocked Winter. Reaching out, she grasped his large hand in hers and dragged him away from the bar, down a small hallway, to the makeshift Green Room. "Sit," she ordered, pointing to the old, tattered couch along the wall._

_He did as he was told, grimacing at the pain that shot through his joint when he bent his knee. "You were great out there," he complimented, but Winter just rolled her eyes. "Don't do that," he chided._

_"What?" she asked, crawling onto the couch beside him and tucking her legs up under her body. Resting her head against his shoulder, she fought to remember why they had been fighting in the first place. _

_"That thing you do," he said. "Where you pretend you don't know how great you are." Again, she huffed. "Winter, stop it. I mean it."_

_The strict nature of his tone cause Winter to sit up straighter, turning on the couch to face him. "What's wrong with you?" she asked, her face twisted in confusion._

_With another exaggerated sigh, Mark leaned his head back against the couch and stared at the ceiling, unsure of how to address the tension between them. "At home, when you told me that you were willing to put everything else aside and just be with me," he shook his head. "I don't know, baby. That's some pretty powerful stuff."_

_Her relationship with Mark was exactly what she always believed a relationship should be. He was her white knight, the Prince Charming she had always dreamt of finding. In his arms, she found a protected sense of security. In his eyes, she found a uplifting sense of admiration. And in his heart, she found all of the love she had ever longed for. The thought that he might not feel the same way scared her more than she wanted it to._

_"I didn't mean to," she started, fighting like hell to keep her bottom lip from trembling._

_But Mark shook his head. "Don't apologize, Sweetness. This isn't you," he sighed. "It's me."_

_He didn't easily admit that he was not perfect. A man owned up to his faults, and fought like hell to overcome them, to make himself better. His in-ring persona was that of a bad ass, and his real-life persona wasn't so different. He was tough, sometimes to his own detriment, and confessing his weaknesses was nearly impossible._

_He doubted that Winter even realized the effect she was having in his life. She was breaking down walls forty years in the making, and finding himself vulnerable after all that time was unnerving to say the least. He'd spent a long time pushing people away, and actually wanting to pull someone in was a foreign concept._

_"You scare the hell outta me," he chuckled, shaking his head and crossing his arms over his chest, as though creating a sheild. "The way you throw yourself into this thing, like it's nothin'. Like you just know," he added, meeting her eye to find tears shining back. "This is it for you."_

_Her bottom lip trembled as the first drops spilled over, dragging her pink eyeliner down her porcelain cheeks. "And you're not sure," she whispered, quickly lowering her head to stare at her hands._

_Reaching out to her, Mark covered her hand with his and squeezed it as gently as he could. "Look at me," he instructed. When she raised her eyes, he reached across his body to wipe her tears with his thumb. "I haven't really believed that 'love conquers all' bull shit for a long time, Sweetness," he said, cringing inwardly when his voice cracked. "You still believe it, though," he managed to power through the overwhelming emotions. "And before tonight, I thought it was a flaw. But now I'm thinking it's why I love you so much."_

_She had been so sure that he was going to break up with her that the thought of anything else had been absent from her mind. The strangled laugh that shook her body surprised her as she jumped slightly. Blushing at her own reaction, Winter clutched his hand and wiped one cheek with her sleeve. "So we're good then?" she asked._

_He nodded and pulled her into his lap, shifting when she landed on his sore leg. With one arm around her back, and the other resting over her legs, he kissed the side of her head. "We're better than good." His hands trailed lazily over back and legs, igniting raging fires deep within both of them. "In fact, if I could do it right, I'd go ahead and make it official."_

_"What does that mean?" Winter asked sharpy, raising an eyebrow at him. "If you could do it right?" _

_With a sly smile, Mark allowed his heavy shoulders to shrug. "Don't you worry, Sweetness. As soon as I have the time to buy a ring and figure out somethin' special, I'll do it," he winked._

_But Winter wasn't amused. Smacking his leather-covered bicep, she screeched. "What the hell is wrong with you?" she asked, continuing her assault on his arm. "You can't just tell a girl that you'll propose someday. You gotta surprise her with it, or just ask and then let her pick out her own ring. You can't tease me like that!"_

_"Ow, Woman!" Mark finally laughed, grabbing her wrists and holding them tightly against her body. "You know you want a big proposal with a ring and some candles, and all that other girlie bull shit that I haven't thought about yet."_

_Shaking her head, Winter pursed her lips and rolled her blue eyes. "No," she corrected. "See, this is why men are big, dumb oafs," she stated as he let go over her arms and allowed her to wrap them around his neck. "You think we give a rat's ass about the words you say, and the accessories, and the fucking lighting, but we don't care."_

_Mark's eyebrows shot up in disbelief. "You don't, huh?"_

_Resting her forehead against his, she licked her lips. "I don't."_

_"So, um, you wanna get married?" Mark asked, paying no real thought to the words passing over his lips. He'd didn't need to think about it. It felt right. Holding her, wanting to do it forever, just felt like the right thing to do._

_Standing from his lap, Winter held her hand out. "That depends," she answered coyly, smiling up at him through thick lashes. "Is this for real? Or is it one of those annoying-ass hypotheticals that you like to throw around so much?"  
_

_"You said you liked my hypotheticals," he accused. "Said they made you think about shit from a new perspective." When Winter pouted, he stood from the couch and offered her a hand. "It's for real," he responded, sinking to his good knee with great effort. "Will you marry me, Sweetness?"_

_The shrieking laughter that she emitted brought Tasha and the rest of the band to the dressing room door. When they burst in and asked if she was okay, Winter was helping Mark to his feet, her arms wrapped tightly around his stomach. "We're getting married!"_


	13. Time After Time

By all standards, Winter's life was in the toilet. Her heart was broken, she had lost her job from lack of attending, and she was one stiff drink away from a 12-step program. Something had to give. She couldn't keep living her life the way she had been. Mark was gone, but she wasn't dead, and it was time to stop living like she was.

Twisting her fingers together to calm her nerves, she walked the perimeter of her dressing room at Hog Heaven, a large biker bar on the outskirts of Houston. It wasn't that she didn't love to perform - being on the stage was a great release for her pent up emotions, a momentary escape from her reality. But it wasn't something she had ever really considered doing professionally. Not until her income dried up and she had no way to support herself.

"You got company," Tasha announced, popping her head into the dressing room and then disappearing just as quickly.

Winter didn't stop pacing as the door re-opened. "Look at you," a deep voice laughed. "You look like a real rock star and shit."

Turning, she shook her head at the visitors. "What," she laughed, "the hell?" As Adam Copeland lifted her feet from the floor, Winter cast her eyes to his partner in crime, Randy Orton. "What are you guys doing here?"

Randy hugged her next, squeezing her a little tighter than normal. He had never been one of Mark's favorite people, and while he had always admired the older man's girlfriend from afar, he felt safer in his full-body press now that the pair were no longer dating. "Adam wanted to come see ya," he explained.

"Well, it's good to see you guys," she said honestly, stepping back toward the vanity to look over the young men before her. Though they had never run in Mark's inner circle, there was no denying that the boys knew how to party. "It's nice to have a cheering section."

An awkward silence followed as the men studied the tiny woman. They had heard stories, from Cena and Hardy, about how she was falling apart, that she was a shell of her former self. But she seemed pretty much like the Winter that they remembered.

"So, how you doin'?" Adam asked, making himself comfortable on the couch when she motioned toward it.

Positioning herself between them, Winter nodded and forced a smile onto her face. "It's not easy," she admitted softly. "I still miss him like crazy, but I'm tellin' myself it'll get easier someday." Pointing toward the table on their left, she added, "Plus, I got to make a rider, so that's pretty cool, right?"

Randy looked around the room, thinking he'd had better dressing rooms for talk show appearances than this little hole in the wall. "So what's the deal with this show? There's a ton of people out there," he said, biting his lip when her pale skin tinged green. "I mean, um," he stammered.

With a comforting hand on his arm, Winter laughed. "It's alright, Orton," she assured him. "It's a talent showcase. Basically, a couple of record executives and road managers and agents are gonna be here. We had to submit a demo, and the top five submissions are playing tonight." Taking a deep breath, she stood and bit her lip. "I guess it's a pretty big deal."

"Are you kidding?" Adam asked. "It's a huge deal. You're gonna be a rock star, Win!" She gave a less-than-thrilled half-grin. "You don't wanna be a rock star, do you?"

Winter shot Adam a withering look and then allowed her shoulders to slump. "I've never really thought about it, ya know? I like singing. It's fun. I'm pretty good at it," she acknowledged. "I just wanted to pay the bills, and there's a five thousand dollar prize just for being accepted to this thing. I mean, even split between us, it's good money."

Randy couldn't really imagine anyone not wanting to be a rock star. Hell, he wanted to be a rock star. And since he had no musical talent to speak of, he had settled for wrestling. The perks were pretty similar, as far as he could tell. "Think of the bills you'll be able to pay if you get discovered," he offered the first thing that popped into his head. And while it sounded stupid to him, the smile she offered was enough to ease the humiliation of being a complete dumbass.

"True," Winter conceded.

A knock at the door interrupted any further conversation. Opening the door, the stage manager motioned for Winter. "You're on in ten."

When she was gone, Winter motioned to the door and hitched her sagging jeans higher on her hips. Heaving one last anxious sigh, Winter fluffed her hair and walked into the hallway, reaching out to squeeze both of their hands for a brief moment. "Here we go."

---

Nearly three hours later, the bar had emptied as Tasha and Winter sat side-by-side on one of the tables, swinging their legs and watching as Randy and Adam helped the guys pack their equipment away. It had been a good show, the crowd was into it, and a few industry insiders had expressed interest in the band. All in all, it was a good night.

"Hey, Rasheed," Winter called to the bartender, who just shook his head and set two beer bottles on the counter. She waved her thank you and turned to see Adam re-enter the room through the back door. "Hey, Copeland," she smiled. "Can you grab those for us?"

Adam took the beer bottles from the counter and moved toward the women. Handing one to Tasha, he chugged the other quickly, draining it in a matter of seconds. With an exaggerated gulp, he grinned cheekily. "Sorry, Sweetheart," he winked. "I have it on good authority that you've been drinking enough lately to last you for the rest of your natural life."

On any other night, the action would set her off. But she was feeling good for the first time in months, so she settled for smacking Adam's ass as he walked by. Nudging Tasha with her shoulder, she swung her legs higher and inclined her head to the side. "You remember that song we used to do in college?"

Tasha nodded, slowly nursing the beer in her hand. She had no idea where this Winter had come from, why she wasn't crying, bitching, and moaning. Nor did she know how long this version of her friend would stick around. But she was happy to have her, if only for one night.

Winter's voice echoed softly through the empty bar as she began to sing. "Lying in my bed, I hear the clock tick and think of you. Caught up in circles, confusion is nothing new. Flashback. Long nights. Almost left behind a suitcase of memories. Time after. . ."

"Sometimes you picture me. I'm walking too far ahead. You're calling to me, I can't hear what you said. You say go slow, and I fall behind. The second hand unwinds," Tasha joined in.

The girls rested their heads together as they harmonized on the chorus that had once been second-nature to them. "If you're lost, you can look and you will find me, time after time. If you fall, I will catch you, I'll be waiting, time after time."

Staring at the floor, Winter considered her life as it was. For months, she had been focused on the life that could have been. But the one she had wasn't so bad. Her best friend since high school had been by her side since day one. There was a possibility that they might have a record deal on the way. Maybe she would be alright after all.

"Finish it," Tasha whispered, giving Winter's knee a reassuring squeeze.

Winter watched as Randy and Adam teased and taunted each other while carrying an equipment crate. That part of her life was slipping into the background of her mind and, while having their support during the show had been nice, she was ready for them to be gone. Seeing anyone from that period wasn't going to help her move forward.

"After your picture fades," she began to sing again, lifting her head from Tasha's shoulder and raising her knees to her chest, resting her heels against the edge of the table. "And darkness has turned to gray. Watchin' through windows, you're wonderin' if I'm okay." She couldn't help thinking of Mark, the concern and worry in his eyes the last time she had seen him. "Secrets stolen from deep inside," she shook her head and rested her chin on her knees. "And the drum beats out of time."

"Excuse me," a deep voice interrupted as the girls began to go through their chorus again. When he had their attention, the man, dressed in leather pants and a silk button-down shirt, motioned to Winter. "Can I speak with you for a minute?"

Pushing herself off the table, Winter followed him to the bar and leaned against it heavily. The exhaustion of the evening was beginning to settle in, and Winter was ready to fall into her mattress and sleep for a week. "What can I do for ya?" she asked.

Grinning brightly, the man extended a business card to the petite woman in front of him. "Winter, my name is Mo. I'm with Interscope Records Developmental Division. I have to say, I was impressed with what I saw from you tonight."

She blushed slightly and pushed her wayward locks behind her ears. "Well, thank you," she responded, looking over her shoulder. "These guys make me look good."

"Actually," Mo corrected, "I think you're the one that makes them look good." Considering her, he tapped the card that she had placed on the bar. "I think you have a very promising future as a solo artist, Winter. And I'd love to be the one who gets you heard."

Solo artist? She didn't want to be a solo artist. Hell, she still wasn't sure she wanted to front a band. "I'm sorry, Mo," she responded, shaking her head. "I'm not really interested.

He seemed to be anticipating her response. "Think about it. You could be a star, Kid."

When he was gone, Winter found herself staring at the bar and dwelling on his words. Solo artist. On her own. Without anyone to back her up, to keep her in line. No one around to assure her that she wouldn't trip over her own feet and fall flat on her face. Alone.

"Dude, I think that's everything," Randy stated, brushing his hands against his thighs as the band surveyed the empty stage.

Adam jumped off the edge of the stage and waited for his friend to join him. "Hey, if you fuck up again and lose your job? I think you'll have a fine career as a roadie," he told Randy, whose only response was a punch to Adam's shoulder.

"Hey," Winter interrupted, rushing toward the duo while pulling her leather motorcycle jacket over her bare shoulders. "Did you guys say that there was a Supershow tomorrow night?"

Randy nodded. "Yeah, we just got into town a little early," he told her. Reaching out a long finger, he brushed her dark locks away from her flushed cheeks. "You okay, Sweetheart?"

Winter nodded, fishing her car keys out of the pocket of her jacket. "Yeah. I'm great. Can you guys tell Tasha that I'll call her later?"

Sharing a confused look, the men nodded. "Where you goin'?" Adam asked as she fled for the door.

"To get some answers." Letting the door clang shut behind her, Winter fled to her car. If she was lucky, Mark wasn't home yet. But she would be waiting when he got there, and she was going to find out exactly what had gone wrong between them.


	14. It Ends Tonight

**Nothing Compares**

**A/N: So this is the second-to-last chapter. I can't explain how quickly this story has come to me, but it's finished and now I'm just torturing y'all with the wait. Muah-hah-hah! Seriously, though, I'm floored by your support, and the fact that you continue coming back for more, even though I've left you all wondering (just as Winter has) exactly what happened with Mark and their relationship. But I promise, these two chapters will answer everything. Enjoy!

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**

_"Dude, you don't even know how much this means to me," the young man gushed as Mark posed for one last picture in the hotel lobby._

_His body ached in places he wasn't aware existed. Though he told himself he could still go full throttle, that nothing could slow him down, time was starting to make a liar out of him. Every step was more difficult than the last. Sometimes, he was sure that retiring was the way to go. Other times, he believed that he could push through one more year, just long enough to quench his thirst for the industry that had been so much a part of his life for so long._

_"Thanks for the support, man," he said, handing the signed photo back to the fan. He couldn't have been more than twenty-one, with a radiating sense of admiration in his eyes. Mark was never quite sure how to respond to the ones who insisted on telling him that he was their hero. He was just a guy, a regular guy. _

_With another handshake, he was on his way to the elevators, gym bag in one hand and a nearly-drained bottle of water in the other. He still needed to shower and call Winter before he dropped into bed, but neither seemed all that appealing to him at the moment. _

_It had been six months since he had proposed to Winter, and he could count the number of times he had seen his fiancee on one hand. When he mentioned that he was considering returning to a full-time travel schedule, that it was the only way he would be able to regain the Championship one more time before he retired, she had been behind the decision whole-heartedly. Until he spent six weeks away from her. The next time had been five weeks, and then seven. _

_He gave her credit for putting on her brave face. She rarely complained about him not being home, about the fact that their relationship was even more distant than it had ever been, but he could hear it in her voice every time they talked. She missed him, and she needed him to be there more than he was able to be._

_It wasn't fair to her, expecting her to sit around and wait for him. She was still young, with an entire future stretching out before her. She deserved a husband who could experience life with her. And her children deserved a father who could play with them in the yard. Once he retired, he wasn't sure his body would be in any shape to do either._

_By the time he reached his room and pushed it open with his shoulder, he had convinced himself that it would be okay to send her a text message explaining that he was really tired, and he would call her in the morning. He just couldn't hear her hopeful voice in that moment._

_Pushing the door of his hotel room open, he dropped his bag by the front door and flung his jacket on top of it. He peeled the hooded sweatshirt over his head and tossed it in the general direction of the bed. His pants were unbuckled by the time he rounded the wall and saw her._

_"Happy birthday," Winter smiled, wiggling her fingers in a wave. She was sitting in one of the chairs by the window, wearing nothing but a pair of red, see-through boy shorts, with red satin bow tied around her naked chest. _

_Ten seconds ago, he hadn't even wanted to hear her voice. But seeing her, raven hair flowing over her shoulders as she stared at him with lustful intensity, there was nothing he wanted more than to tear that bow off and remind himself just how much he had really missed her._

_"What are you doin' here?" Mark asked, groaning instinctively when she walked to him and wrapped her arms around his waist. Her answer was muffled by his soft tee shirt. "You didn't tell me you were coming, did you?"_

_Winter pulled back to meet his eye, shaking her head. "It's your birthday," she reminded, taking another step backward. Motioning to her attire, she turned her head to the side. "And I wanted to give you a special present." _

_When she began to untie the bow, Mark put his hand out to cover hers. "Let me take a shower first."_

_Leaning close, she inhaled deeply and then scrunched her nose. "Ew," she coughed. "Yeah, you're kinda funky."_

_He nodded in agreement and moved toward his suitcase, withdrawing a shaving kit and a pair of shorts. "I'm glad you're here," he told her before disappearing into the bathroom._

_Though Winter had no reason to doubt his words, something about his demeanor seemed off. Maybe he was just tired. Or sore. But there was a tension in his touch, a slight hesitation in his eyes. There was something on his mind. And she determined in that moment that she would just have to double her efforts to drive every other thought from him._

_---_

_He thought that being with her again would make him feel better. Hearing her giggle, moan, and scream should have eased his fears. Feeling her soft skin gliding against his chest, her fingernails sliding over his back, and her breath against his neck should have calmed every doubt in his mind._

_Chasing sleep for the rest of the night, but never quite catching it, Mark rolled out of bed before sunrise, the burden of his thoughts weighing heavily on his entire being. After checking his itinerary for the day, he set about packing his clothes and preparing to leave for the next city. Winter had mentioned something about traveling with him for the rest of the week, but he knew that wasn't going to be happening._

_When she awoke, Winter snuggled deeper into her pillow and attempted to burrow further into her lover's embrace, only to find him gone. Rolling over, she blinked against the soft lighting, her eyes resting on Mark's back as he scribbled something on the hotel notepad. "Hey," she whispered groggily._

_Turning like the boy who just stole the last cookie from the jar, Mark gave a half-smile and dropped the pad on the desk. "You're awake."_

_She nodded and struggled to sit, shoveling her hair away from her face as she blinked to gain some sort of composure. "What are you doing?"_

_With a heavy sigh, Mark turned and leaned against the dressing, crossing his massive arms over his chest. "I'm leaving," he announced._

_Winter chuckled and looked around. "Okay," she sighed. "I thought we weren't leaving until later, but give me twenty minutes - I can be ready." _

_Before she could roll out of the bed, Mark cleared his throat and shook his head. "No, Winter. I'm leaving. You're going back to Houston." When she gave him a confused look, he felt his heart breaking. "You can't come with me."_

_'Am I still sleeping?' Winter wondered, taking note of the way he seemed to be shielding himself from her. "Mark, what's going on?" she asked, her voice small and vulnerable as it echoed off the foreign walls._

_"I've been doin' a lot of thinkin' lately. 'Bout this whole wedding thing." Shifting uncomfortably, he thought about what his next words would be. There was no easy way to break a heart. 'Be a man. Just say what you have to say and get the hell out of this room.' Sniffling back the tears that were threatening to fall, he squeezed his nose and then crossed his arms again. "I can't."_

_"Can't what?" It wasn't that she was trying to be difficult, but Winter had no idea what was going on. Hadn't they just spent three hours making love the night before? Hadn't he whispered how much he loved her as she drifted off to sleep? _

_Shaking his head, he chuckled sardonically and threw his arms out, allowing them to fall heavily at his sides as he spoke. "Do this," he gestured between them. "You and me. Us. This marriage thing. I can't do it."_

_"Huh?" Words raced past each other in her head, but Winter couldn't make any thoughts connect. She honestly couldn't comprehend the words that were coming out of his mouth in that moment. "You don't wanna get married?"_

_He began to speak and then stopped, grasping for words he wouldn't regret. Until he realized there were none. He would second-guess himself a thousand times over, but his gut was screaming for him to walk away before either of them fell any further. "I can't," he repeated. _

"_You don't believe in can't," she muttered, staring at him in blank confusion. How was it possible that everything she had been planning, building, and expecting for her life was coming to an end? Without a word of warning. Had there been warnings? Had she missed the warnings? _

_She was right, to an extent. It was his greatest pet peeve in life – to hear someone discount an opportunity without so much as an attempt. But maybe some things weren't meant to be attempted. Maybe there was more harm to be done in the long run. Maybe he had been wrong._

_The silence between them was killing Winter as she stood from the bed and wrapped herself in the bed sheet. The whole scenario was absurd. The man she loved wouldn't be so cruel as to break her heart after she had flown half-way across the country to surprise him. Her fiancee wouldn't just give up on something they had been working so hard to build. It was surreal and wholly unbelievable._

"_Mark," she started, reaching out toward him and then gasping when he pulled away. "What the hell is going on?" Licking her dry, sleep-swollen lips, she gripped the sheet tightly in one hand and buried the other deep into her unruly curls. "What did I do? Did I say something? In my sleep? Where is this coming from?"_

_With another sigh, he rested his hand on her shoulder and gently rubbed her skin with his thumb. "I know it doesn't seem like it now, but this is for the best. I promise."_

_Pressing a soft kiss to her forehead, he turned and gathered his wallet and watch from the dresser. Without so much as a look back, he took his luggage and left the room, his conscience kicking his ass all the way to the elevator._

_Winter sank to the bed and stared at the door in disbelief. 'This is a twisted joke,' she told herself. 'He'll be back in a second.' Wrapping her arms tightly around her chest, she felt the tears pricking the backs of her eyes. 'What the hell just happened?'_


	15. Nothing Compares 2 U

**Nothing Compares**

**A/N: So this is it - the final chapter of the story that has renewed my love for writing. I just want to take a second to thank everyone who took the time to submit a review for this chapter: agonyzpuppy, Amyvedamarie, bkrbunny, cenasgrl, Disco Inferno1, foolishangel87, klh 5598, Maeggy, NSB, pianogal, Princess Mel, saintthistle, sarah7174, Sharnhorst, socalledsara, Tanya50801, VASHORTYGIRL, wrestlenascargirl, and lady bearwolf.**

**And I have to give a special thanks to Stacy, who has read so much of this story and given me her honest opinion. Your input has meant so much to me and this story would have never been what it is without your encouragement.**

**Oh, and one more thing: I have posted the "soundtrack" for this story over on our Myspace page. So if you want to know which songs inspired me in the writing of this story, you can pop on over and check it out.**

**And with that: Enjoy!

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It had seemed like a good idea as she ran from the bar and drove out to Mark's ranch. Deterimined to wait until he got home and then demand the answers that had elluded her for so long, Winter had driven with a purpose, forcing the nerves in her stomach as far down as she could push them.

She waited on the porch until dawn, but when Mark hadn't arrived home, curiosity got the better of her. Trying her key in the lock, she felt a sense of relief when the front door clicked and opened with a little bit of help from her shoulder. Her conscience told her that she had no business enterting the home, but she reasoned that he knew she still had the key. Maybe he wanted her there.

After quickly depositing her shoes by the front door, she wandered barefoot over the smoothly polished wooden floor. Everything had been exactly as she remembered it, from the rustic scent, to the slight chill of the central air. Even as she made her way up the stairs, she couldn't keep the smile at bay.

His bed was unmade, the thick comforter on the floor at the foot of the hulking, four poster structure. While she ached to sink into the pillowtop mattress, to cover herself with the heavy blankets, to inhale his scent from the sheets, Winter resisted and made her way to the far side of the room.

Kneeling on the seat of the bay window, she stared over the bare acreage stretching beyond sight behind his home. They had so many dreams for that land: starting a horse farm, constructing a race track, building a training facility and a recording studio. The possibilities had seemed endless only six short months ago, but for Winter, it felt like another lifetime.

She left the room as tears poured over her cheeks. Being there, in the presence of everything inherently Mark, without actually having him there with her, somehow brought a sense of closure she hadn't realized she had been missing. Of course, had he been there, she knew she would be no closer to "over" their relationship than she had been months ago.

After walking through the entire house, Winter finally settled herself on the floor in the empty room next to the master bedroom. Once upon a time, it would have been the baby's nursery. She wrapped her arms around her upturned knees and, once again, considered what she would say when he arrived.

---

The recent road trip had seemed longer to Mark than any he had endured in recent memory. He'd yet to find any real sleep since leaving Winter's apartment nearly a month earlier, and he couldn't help hoping that being back in his own bed would rectify that dilemma. If he couldn't find sleep, at least he could ride his own bike for awhile.

The sight that greeted him as he pulled into the driveway chased any thoughts of rest from his mind. Winter's car was parked beside the house, and she was nowhere to be seen. She had been pretty angry that last time they had talked, and he couldn't imagine the kind of damage she was inflicting on his home. _Maybe I should have changed the locks_, he thought as he killed the engine and stepped out of the truck.

Hauling his luggage up the porch steps, he braced himself for the sight that would greet him on the other side of the heavy, oak door. She had every right to be angry, he knew. He could offer no excuses for what he had done to break her heart, and going to see her hadn't been his most shining moment, either.

He breathed a deep sigh of relief when he realized that the living room appeared untouched. Her boots sat neatly by the front door, but nothing else seemed out of place. Deciding against calling out for her, he searched the lower level and then started up the stairs.

Nearly twenty minutes later, he found her on the floor in the guest room, face turned toward the bright, morning daylight. From his vantage point in the doorway, he studied her still form, wondering how long she had been there and if she had fallen asleep. But no matter how he tried, he couldn't seem to find his voice.

"Interscope Records wants to sign me to a solo deal," she finally said, her voice flat and lifeless as she raised her head to stare out the window.

Mark cleared his throat and leaned against the door frame. "Congratulations," he responded, the tone of his own voice sounding foreign to his ears. "I'm proud of you."

"Yeah." With a sardonic chuckle, she rolled her neck and clicked her tongue against her teeth. "I figured you would be."

Months of separation created a palpable tension between the couple. Neither moved. Neither spoke. Each seemed content to reflect on their own thoughts, though both knew conversation was inevitable.

"You're not going to take the deal, are you?" Mark asked finally, crossing his arms over his chest again. When Winter shook her head, he let out a heavy sigh. "I think you're crazy," he said honestly. "You know how much talent and luck goes into an opportunity like that? It's a dream come true."

She nodded slowly, the conversation playing out exactly as it had in her head. "Not mine," she said softly, her voice barely audible. When Mark said nothing, she stood, turning to face him. "They think it's because I don't wanna leave the band. That's why I didn't take the deal, but it's not about the band." Shaking her head, she ran her fingers through her hair. "That kind of opportunity should be reserved for people who have wanted it their entire lives, who have sacrificed for it. Who crave it.

"I'm just a kid who can do it. I don't think about it. Hell, most of the time, I don't even put much effort into it. I show up when the band tells me to be there, and I sing the songs that I already know from the radio." Meeting his eye, she felt a million emotions darting through her body. "It's a hobby, Mark. No matter how bad I'm supposed to want it, I just don't."

It was a statement made in complete sincerity, but one that he couldn't wrap his head around. How could anyone be so talented, so gifted, and give up on the chance to turn that gift into a career? It seemed like such a waste. "All this time," he started, shaking his head in disappointment, "I thought I was the one holding you back. I thought you were sacrificing what you loved to be with me."

And, as if someone had slammed a spotlight on over her head, Winter knew. "So you walked away," she stated simply. He only nodded in response. "So that I wouldn't have to give up my dream." Biting her lip, she thought about his confession. "That," she sighed, nodding her head, "may be the dumbest goddamn thing I've ever heard."

He was slightly stunned by her reaction. Maybe he had been naive, but a part of Mark sincerely believed that Winter would, at the very least, respect the fact that he loved her enough, cared enough about her dream, to let her pursue what she wanted. "Well, excuse me for wantin' you to be happy," he spat defensively.

However noble he felt his intentions were, Winter didn't care. It was a stupid reason. It was weak. And it irritated her. No, it pissed her off. "I **was **happy, Mark. I was happier than I have ever been in my entire life! Why is it so hard for you to accept that you made me happy? That I didn't need anything else? That you are enough for me?"

"Because you can't live your entire life completely devoted to someone else, Winter! Twenty years from now, you've got a raggedy-ass husband who's too old, and too broken down, to move out of his recliner. You've got two or three kids who are so busy with their own lives that they barely have time to say 'hi' to you. And you've got nothing left for yourself." Shaking his head, he sighed heavily and stared at the ceiling, as if trying to calm the frustration coursing through his body. "That's no way to live, baby."

Taking a step toward him, she twisted her face. If ever she needed him to understand her heart, this was the moment. "I know this is hard for you to wrap your head around. You love the crowds, and the attention, and the life of a performer. That's big time to you, and that's awesome.

"Big time for me is not a stage with spotlights and screaming fans. That doesn't say that I've arrived. That's not success for me," she stated, her voice softening as she pleaded with him to understand her viewpoint. "As much as you've always wanted to be a wrestler? That's how much I've always wanted to be a wife and a mother."

She was right - he couldn't comprehend it. Not that there was anything wrong with having a family, but for him, it had always been supplemental. It was never a primary goal. "Don't you want something more, though?" he asked, his nose scrunched in confusion. "I mean, you honestly want to be an Administrative Assistant for the rest of your life? Making ends meet, watching the hours tick by until it's time to pick up the kids from day care, just letting all that talent go to waste?"

Winter shook her head and took a few steps closer to him. "I don't want to be sitting at a desk for the rest of my life. I want to be chasing our babies around the yard. I want to spend my afternoons in the kitchen, baking and cooking. I want to be a stay-at-home mom. I want to clean this whole house every day, and do your laundry when you're home. I want to mow the yard and plant flowers and be waiting for you on the porch when you get home.

"And I'll still do Open Mic Night down at Danny's. I'll still sing to you when you're trying to sleep, annoying the piss out of you until you clamp your hand over my mouth and tell me to shut up and go to bed." He couldn't fight the smile at the memories that accompanied that particular recollection. "I'll sing our babies to sleep. I'll sing in the shower. Hell, I'll buy a karaoke machine and sing to you every fucking night, if that's what makes you happy. But, Mark," she sighed, pressing her body to his and resting her hand on his cheek, "my dream is making you happy."

He sighed and rested his hands on her shoulders, feeling the warmth spread through him in an instant. Though his heart still ached for her, he was hesitant. "Sweetness," he whispered, leaning back against the door frame again.

Taking a step back, she bit her lip and twisted her fingers behind her back. "There's something else," she predicted.

"It's a lotta pressure," he admitted. "Bein' the center of somebody's world is a lotta pressure. I know I can't be everything you need me to be all the time." He was a man of few words, but when something needed to be said, Mark had learned that he had to open up. "Even when I retire from the ring, I'm probably gonna stick with the company somehow. Road agent, front office, somethin' else. . . I don't know how, but I'm not gonna be around all the time.

"Everything you want is beautiful, baby, but did you ever stop to think that maybe I'm not the guy to give it to you? My career is too fuckin' important to me." It sounded harsh, and he wished that he could take it back instantly, or say it differently. But regardless of the words, the emotion would be the same.

With her hands in her hair, Winter laughed. "You think I don't know that?" Flailing her arms at her sides, she shook her head. "Your career has been a huge part of who you are since the day I met you. And it's part of the reason that I love you so damn much. You're dedication is amazing. I love the way you give yourself over to it, even when your body doesn't think it's such a good idea. That commitment, and that passion, are what drew me to you in the first place. It's what tells me that you're in it for the long haul," she stopped and bit her lip, turning her head to the side. "Except for the whole engagement thing. That kinda makes me question ya a little bit."

"For forty-two years, the only person I've had to think about is me," he admitted, though the words sounded corny to him. He'd never really cared to express his emotions. Punching people in the head was far more efficient, as far as he was concerned. "It ain't easy to bring somebody else into this life." Reaching out to her, he placed a large hand on her hip and pulled her close. "But if you can forgive me for walkin' away, I wanna bring you back in. And keep you here this time."

Melting into his embrace, Winter rested her head against his chest and breathed his scent deeply. "Promise me you won't be an idiot this time?" she asked, wiping her tears against his tee shirt.

The laugh that resonated from deep within his chest felt surprisingly new. He couldn't be sure that he had really laughed since leaving her. Pulling back, he laced his fingers through hers and led her back to his bedroom.

Winter gasped when she saw the arrangement of rose petals and burning candles. Mark left her side and moved to his dresser, opening it and closing it quickly. Dropping to knee in front of her, he took her left hand in his and opened the black ring box in his hand. "I screwed this up in ways I'm pretty embarrassed to admit, Sweetness," he confessed, gripping her tiny fingers tightly. "But I never stopped loving you. And I told myself that I would do this the right way if I ever got another chance. So," he smiled when the tears began to flow freely over her round cheeks, "Winter, will you marry me?"

As he slipped the square-cut diamond over her left finger, Winter stared in disbelief. She had come here with every intention of finding out why he left, and then going home to grieve the definite conclusion of their relationship. In the best case scenario, she had considered that he would tell her he'd made a huge mistake and that he wanted her back.

But she had never anticipated the sparkling diamond, flanked on both sides with rubies. She had never dreamed of the romantic setting, and the look of love that his eyes were radiating back at her. "You're sure?" she asked, laughing through her tears. When he nodded, she stepped backwards, pulling him with her toward the bed. "Yes! A thousand times yes!"

She had tried to get over him, tried everything she could think of to live a life without him in it. But sheltered safely under his hulking frame against the soft mattress, she knew that every attempt had been futile. And she knew that being there with him, in that moment, and for the rest of her life, was the only thing she really wanted.


End file.
